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sabrinathe20somethingwitch · 2 years

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Don't know if you accept request for Daddy Dearest, but I keep imaging that Levi's friend（maybe Hanji or Farlan?）as an obstetrician, taking the test for Petra ,and shutting”I will become the Godfather/mother!!!!!!!” (Sorry for my poor English😳)

By the way, I love your fanfic so much. Petra and Levi are lovely and hot under your pen. Always made my day.🥰

thank you so much for your sweet words! 🥰 and thank you for being my FIRST anon! congratulations to you. 🥳✨ and your english is perfect.

I churned this out in an hour because as soon as I saw this prompt, it was BEGGING to be written, so kudos to you for the inspiration. I hope you like it!

Read below or read on Ao3

Please practice safe sex!

She didn’t think much of it when she had that dizzy spell last week. She’d been working herself to the brink, putting in as many hours as she could at her new job before she was going to take some time off for both the wedding and their honeymoon. So, she’d simply chalked up her fainting episode to just lack of sleep and probably dehydration. After all, she’d never been good at taking care of her basic needs when she’s under pressure. Then, she turned a blind eye to the fact that she was nearly two weeks late for her period. It’s just stress, she reasoned, it made complete sense to her. Besides, a missed period isn’t entirely uncommon, not for her. Her cycle had always been irregular, frustratingly so. But she should have realized when she went to pay Levi an unplanned visit at the hospital for a surprise lunch one afternoon and she’d promptly puked into the potted plant at the reception desk. It wasn’t until Hanji had spotted her — one of Levi’s friends, who was an obstetrician and had just finished with a successful delivery — that she knew that something might be wrong.

The doctor had seized her wrist and dragged her to the maternity ward, rattling off an endless stream of incredibly invasive questions — granting them strange looks from passing nurses — such as When was your last period? and Any other bouts of nausea? and, Petra’s personal favorite, Are you and Levi using protection? Truthfully, they weren’t. They had always tried their best to use a condom, but sometimes, they realized far too late that the box was empty and neither of them felt like running to the convenience store in the middle of foreplay. It was risky, they knew. Petra wasn’t on birth control and Levi wasn’t always the best at pulling out in time, but it was a risk they were both willing to take. They loved each other, they knew that they would get pregnant someday, but that tiny voice in the back of her head wondered if that someday was today.

“Okay, Petra.” Hanji hands her a clear plastic cup. “Hope you drank enough water. It’s usually best to test first thing in the morning because the urine is more concentrated, but I think we’ll get an accurate result anyway.” She accepted the cup with a nod, trying her best to ignore the violent churning in her stomach as she shuffled down the hallway and into the bathroom. She cursed herself for not having any breakfast that morning before remembering that she did, she had just upended the contents of said meal into a potted monstera plant in the lobby.

She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly through her teeth. We’ll face this together, she repeated to herself, like a steady mantra. No matter the outcome.

After about ten minutes of the most agonizing and tedious chit-chat of her life — honestly, Petra really did enjoy Hanji, but being bombarded with questions about the minuscule details of their wedding grew tiresome very quickly, especially when she was waiting to discover if she was going to have a baby or not — a nurse cracked open the door and summoned Hanji into the hallway to talk about the results privately. They slipped out of the room quietly, only for the doctor to reappear two minutes later with a wide grin stretched across their face.

“Good news, Petra. I’m going to be a godparent!”

She blinked. “Wait, what—”

“You’re having a baby!”

A baby.

“Goddess, I can’t wait to spoil that kid rotten! What’re you hoping for: a boy or a girl?”

She was going to have a baby.

“I think it’d be great to have a mini Levi running around, but I just know that a little girl would have him absolutely wrapped around her tiny finger, it’d be adorable.”

She and Levi were going to have a baby.

“Oh shit, how are you going to tell him? You going to tell him right away? He’s in his office, I can go grab him. Or are you going to do some big and elaborate reveal, like in those viral YouTube videos?”

They were going to be a family.

“In my opinion, you can’t just buy him a mug that says, like, Best Dad Ever or something stupid like that, you’ve got to go all out, like a scavenger hunt! In the woods! At night! I can’t wait to see the look on his face.”

Neither can she.

Suddenly, the gravity of the situation struck her like lightning, sinking low into her stomach like a stack of brinks, and Petra abruptly blinked back to her senses, cutting through Hanji’s babbling. She was pregnant. “Hanji, you can’t tell Levi, not yet.” She tried her best to speak confidently and keep the tremor out of her voice, despite the dread that was steadily trickling into her veins.

Hanji offers her a teasing glance. “Well, yeah, it’s not my right to tell him, it’s yours. I’m just helping you plan the big surprise.”

She was pregnant and she had to tell Levi. She blurts out, “I don’t think I want to do a big surprise.”

They tilted their head, brows furrowed in confusion. “Why not? Isn’t this what you guys have always wanted?”

Petra stutters. “Well, y-yeah, but, uh, I didn’t think it would happen this soon, I mean, I don’t even know if I’m ready for... if he’s ready for...” She was pregnant and she was going to have a baby. She tries to bite her tongue against the bile that’s crawling into her throat, willing the vomit back into her stomach, but to no avail. “I-I have to go, thanks for the test, I’m glad it was you.”

“Petra, wait—”

She marched out of the maternity ward, practically sprinting through the hospital and into the parking lot, trying to dig out her car keys from the bottom of her purse with trembling fingers. Petra knew that she always wanted children. She was initially elated about the news, a giddy sort of schoolgirl excitement had warmed her heart from the inside out, before she wondered if her fiancé would feel the same way. What if he didn’t share the same sentiment as her? Maybe he thought that it was too soon, that they were too ill-prepared, despite the money that lined their bank account, despite their stable careers. No, Petra knew that couldn’t be it. What if he had changed his mind and just hadn’t told her yet? What if he thought he was too old for children? Petra certainly didn’t think so, she knew that he was suited for fatherhood, but that doubting voice in the back of her head grew louder and louder with every fleeting thought, conjuring up passing images in her mind that featured the worst possible scenarios. She imagined that, upon hearing the news, Levi would call off the wedding in a hurry, leaving her unwed and pregnant. She’d have to move back in with her parents, she’d have to raise their child as a single mother, she’d likely never see him again. She’d be utterly alone. Their child would never know who their father was and that thought made her—

She vomited into a nearby hydrangea bush, deciding that she’d simply tell him later. For now, she’d settle for finding something to eat that didn’t twist her stomach into knots.

I’m always taking requests y’all, so don’t be shy!

#rivetra #rivetra fic #levi ackerman #petra ral #aot #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin #sugar daddy levi #sugar baby petra

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tomtenadia · 4 years

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Island Dreams - Chapter 10

Hello everyone! Chapter 10 is finally here and is a good 5k words. I hope you will enjoy. we finally get to know a bit more about Rowan and Lyria and yes, we get to meet her... have your rotten veggies at the ready.

Things are still a slow burn but our lovely are taking one step at a time... they have still too much to deal with. But we almost there. I promise.

Happy reading!

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A couple of days had elapsed and Aelin was on her way to the bookshop with a box in her hands and a smug grin. Once inside the she noticed it was empty. “Rowan?” She called but no reply came. Where the heck was he? “Rowan?” She shouted louder “The shop is open and there is no one around.” With a thus, she dumped the box on the desk and the backpack behind it and went looking for him and found him five minutes later in the back of the shop, deep in conversation with the delivery man. He noticed her arrival and turned “What?” He asked at her annoyed expression. “The shop is unmanned.” Aelin explained, pointing at it with her extended arm. “It was just for five minutes.” Was his excuse. She stormed away and went back to the front of the shop getting ready for another day. Quietly she walked around the shop and took great care in fixing some of the display that looked a bit sad, then she took note of what needed replenishing and restocked some of the most popular titles. They had a few busy days and hoped for a repeat because she was enjoying herself immensely.

“I am back.” Rowan had finally reappeared. “We have been quite busy yesterday, I was just replenishing some shelves.” With a big grin painted on his face he took her hand and dragged Aelin to her history display showing her that her book was now sold out thanks to her display. “I won the bet?” She jumped in excitement, clapping her hands in front of her. “You definitely did and I have to treat you to a massive lunch.” “Told you.” She folded her arms and he smiled back. “I admit my defeat.” Rowan’s hands went up in a yielding gesture. “Good, because I have a present for you.” She walked to the counter and grabbed the box for him while he joined her at her side with a curious expression painted on his face. “Open.” Aelin gave him the box. Rowan opened the box and froze when he noticed it contained a mobile phone. “I don’t understand.” He looked at her. “It’s for you.” Slowly he opened the box and took the mobile phone out “Aelin, this is an expensive gift. I would have bought one if it really meant a lot to you.” Aelin shook her head “No, this is a present from me.” Then searched his eyes “And there might be a little bit of a selfish reason in it.” His expression was puzzled. “The night of the storm, I woke up and I was terrified I wanted to call you and realised I couldn’t. Sometimes I am reading a book and I want to share my reactions with you in the moment and I can’t.” Rowan held the mobile in his hands not sure what to do with it, but Aelin went in his help. She began showing him all the buttons, then switched it on and set it up for him. “Enter you code.” Rowan looked at her, again as if she was speaking a secret language he did not know. “It’s a four digits code that you use to access the phone. You can also set up your fingerprint recognition, but we can do that later.” “When is your birthday?” He asked with curiosity. “September 15th.” “So, 1509 it is” Aelin laughed and entered the code for him. After that she spent half an hour going through all the functions of the basic apps and how to download more. Then she went to the contact list and added her phone humber. “This is my number. Now you can call me and text me whenever you want.” She turned to him and his smile had her toes curl. A moment later she was beside him and pulled him closer and instructed him to put his arms around her neck. Rowan complied and in addition placed a kiss on her temple and in that moment Aelin took a picture of them. That picture became Rowan’s home screen “Perfect,” she muttered, pleased by her job then she turned and gave the phone to him. “You are all set up. You will have to select a ringtone.” “I need to decide which song. Can I add any song I want?” Aelin nodded “Once you have chosen, let me know and I will do it for you.” Rowan played a bit with the piece of technology in his hands that still felt alien to him. “I also have another idea.” She said timidly “Facebook and Instagram,” and again Rowan’s face was one big puzzle and she thought there was something incredibly fascinating in the fact that he didn’t have a mobile until half an hour before and had no clue about the whole world of social media. He was a rare human being. “They are platforms where people share things. Facebook you share things about you and Instagram is for photos.” Rowan flinched. He was not keen on sharing his life on the internet. “But not for you. I have a feeling you would not like that. I was thinking about the bookshop.” She explained “We can create a Facebook page for the shop, on there you can share book recommendations, you can write reviews and talk about new books you get in. You can promote the shop. Instagram you can use it to share photos of the shop and also promote books.” She continued and saw interest dawn on his features “You can advertise your shop on the visit Outer Hebrides website, so if you have tourist browsing for things in Stornoway you will appear in the list.” Rowan was staring at her in amazement “I love the idea very much.” Aelin smiled and launched herself to his computer “Good, now go and deal withe the customers while I work my magic.” “As you wish…”

When Rowan came back from dealing with the customers he noticed that Aelin was very busy at work on his computer. “You know that I will need that soon?” “Paperwork can wait.” She replied not even lifting her head to look at him and Rowan used the moment to admire her a bit more. Everyday since they had started talking, she had surprised him. In every possible way. And now she had gone and transformed into his marketing agent “Why do you care so much?” He was curious. This was not her business but she seemed to have decided to help him in every possible way. “Because independent bookshops are something precious. You are the only one on the entire island. Or at least the only one this big.” Rowan smiled at her and her eyes seemed to turn even more blue. “Speaking of which… orders… You know you could have someone create a website for you and people could place orders online?” Rowan cringed a bit. He was so old fashioned it was pitiful “I don’t know…” his hand scratched the back of his neck. “Ro,” she said, coming away from behind the counter and stopping in front of him. He realised that he actually liked when she called him Ro. “Think about it. You could extend your business from Lewis all the way down to Barra. Other islanders could buy your books online and you’d post them. Of course the postage is at their expenses, but even large bookstore chains do that.” He could kiss her. She was brilliant and he could just kiss her. “I have a friend in London who can help you with the website. You can speak of the phone, he can send you ideas via email…” he noticed she stopped. “Please tell me you have an email.” Rowan rolled his eyes “I might not be evolved enough to have a mobile phone, but I do have an email address and I can use the internet and I buy things online. I am not that much of an underdeveloped oaf.” And he noticed that Aelin began laughing and her laughter was music to his ears. “Sure. Now stop talking. You got customers.” “Yes, ma’am.” and he flashed her a military salute. Once he was done he walked behind her and stared at what she was doing at the pc. “This is you Facebook page.’ And she showed him what to do. How to create posts and update pictures. “So, do I just… talk about books?” Aelin nodded and Rowan took a step closer to her. His chest was not hard against her back. He thought for a moment she would react badly but she surprised him when he felt her leaning into him. His right hand clenched and unclenched at his side resisting the urge to run his hand against her arm, to tuck her rebel strand of hair behind her ear. He restrained himself and just leaned his chin on her head and chuckled. “What? Making fun that I am shorter than you?” “No.” He chuckled again “Just loving that you are the perfect size to fit under my chin. Sooo comfy.” Aelin turned and slapped him gently on his shoulder “Stop mocking my less developed height. Not everyone can be a giant.” “Yes, Fireheart.” And he placed a kiss on the top of her head. “What did you call me?” “Fireheart, you know, like the Queen from Cursed Kingdom.” Aelin looked at him with an expression that he could not decipher. “You remind me a lot of her.” “Because I am hot like her?” Rowan did not reply “You have fire in you. Like her. You are both these amazing women, strong-willed and intelligent…” She was staring at him and he finally removed that lock of hair from her face and his hand lingered a bit longer on her cheek. How could he have fallen so badly for her in such a short time? His head bowed slightly, while his stare was fixed on her lips, imagining how she would taste. She looked up at him, they were so close he could feel her breath. He was about to close the last remnant of space, when someone came into the shop. The two of them jumped apart and Rowan cursed the bad timing. He wanted to kick out the customer and claim the kiss he was robbed of. He stared at her while helping the customer and could not believe that she was leaning into the kiss. She wanted it too. Did it mean she had made her choice? What about Elias? She was still seeing him and could not ignore the sting of thinking of her in the other man’s arms. He was jealous. That was crystal clear. While she was busy he went back to the computer and had a look at her project and he was impressed. She had posted some photos and wrote a lovely blurb about the shop. “What do you think?” She asked, sneaking under his arm so it then was around her shoulder. “I love it.” He said softly. I love you.

A few hours had passed and around lunchtime Aelin had begged Rowan to close and go to Maeve’s to claim her victory meal. Rowan yielded. It had started to slow down a bit so they could afford to close for lunch. “Come on greedy guts. Let’s go and feed you, before you take it out on me.” In response, she gave him a massive toothy grin and grabbed his hand.

By the time they arrived a Maeve’s they were much closer and Rowan had an arm around her shoulder and Aelin was snuggling against him. Her excuse was that she loved his smell and she was trying to cover her clothes in it. “Well, if that’s not a surprise. So I guess you two have finally finished to kill each other.” Said the woman walking them to a table in a corner. “Yeah, I decided that I can keep him alive a bit longer.” “Gee, thanks Fireheart, I am so honoured by your goodwill. I am thy humble servant.” Aelin smiled “Now, stop talking, Buzzard. It’s food time.” She grabbed the menu and began reading. “Buzzard?” Aelin lowered her menu and glared at him “Yeah, when you are mad you have this predatory expression. You look like a bird of prey.” He took the menu from her and hid it behind his back. “Give me my menu.” “The magic word…” “Buzzard…” she stared in his green eyes. “Fireheart…” he returned the menu to her. “I am starving.” And at that Rowan scoffed and Aelin pinched his arm. “What?’ He squealed at the gesture “You are always hungry.” “Now shush.” She told him placing a finger on his mouth. Rowan gave her a few minutes. She was hunched over the menu and her blonde hair had spilled freely in front of her. With his hands he pulled her hair away from her face “How can you read with this wild mane of hair covering your eyes?” Then he pulled all her hair on one side and started braiding it in a nice neat braid and aelin was impressed at his skills. “Hairband?” Aelin removed the hairband from her wrist and Rowan tied her braid. He had lost control. He was aware of that. But he could not stop touching her. He needed the contact with her. After a while Aelin finally made up her mind and placed her order and Rowan did the same, albeit a more normal quantity of food. Once Maeve brought the plates Aelin was ready to dig in as her stomach had started to growl in protest. They were chatting and eating happily when Rowan froze when the door of the cafe opened and noticed who had entered. Aelin recognised the woman as well and under the table Aelin grabbed his hand showing him support. She had noticed his reaction and she wanted him to know she was there for him. Aelin noticed that it was another one of Maeve’s colleagues who served the brunette and not Maeve herself. She had a suspicion that was his aunt’s way to express her displeasure at the woman without being overtly rude. “Rowan.” Said the woman walking toward them and sitting down at the empty chair at their table. Aelin wanted to bite her head off and kick her away for thinking she had the right to sit down with them. In challenge she brought the hand that was on Rowan’s on the table, right in front of the woman’s eyes. It was petty but she did not care. “Lyria…” he finally managed to say something. Lyria looked at Rowan for a second but then her gaze shifted to Aelin and in particular on the had she was holding. His hand. “So, who is your friend, Rowan? Aren’t you going to introduce me to her?” She leaned back on the chair almost in challenge. “I am his girlfriend.” And Aelin put an arm around Rowan’s shoulder and kissed his cheek to prove her point. Rowan in the meantime was stone-faced and silent and she knew she had to fight the woman alone. Well, bring it on. She squeezed his hand almost in apology and her heart ached at his expression. One moment they were having fun, a moment later he looked like a broken man. “What do you want?” He finally managed a sentence but his tone dripped hate. “So you did manage to forget me in the end.” She whispered, but luckily for them the place was quiet “Although I think your tastes have declined a bit.” Aelin was about to punch her. Who was this woman? How could she judge someone she had never met? “I thought you liked women with… more meat.” Lyria grabbed a couple of fries from Aelin’s plate in plain challenge and gave her a smirk that brought rage through her. “I am glad I finally found a real man.” She continued, not caring about the pain she was inflicting on Rowan “One who does not spend his time reading fairytales.” Eventually Lyria stood and went to collect her order, say goodbye to Rowan and leaned toward Aelin “Bye stick.” Aelin jumped up, ready to inflict a beating, but Rowan grabbed her hand. “Leave her.” His tone was strained and that’s all she needed to sit back down and swallow her pride. “She just called me a stick.” Aelin growled “I have curves and boobs.” She sighed and crossed her arms at her chest “What a bitch.” She grabbed one of her fries and dipped it in ketchup “And how dares she touch my food?” Rowan chuckled and finally looked at her. And what she saw in his eyes hurt her. He stood “I just… I need to get out.” He was about to leave but Aelin stopped him ‘I am coming with you.” Rowan shook his head “I need a bit of time alone. Please.” His green eyes were sad again and she just wanted to go to An Lanntair and slap the woman. How dared she treat him like that?” “Okay.” She touched his face and leaned in the touch and Aelin thought it was progress. At least he was not pushing her away. “I’ll call you later.” He kissed her cheek “I am sorry…” “Go. I’ll be fine.” Rowan nodded and left.

Aelin finished her lunch, paid Maeve and left the cafe with renewed purpose. She marched to An Lanntair. She entered the venue and walked to Lyria trying to fight the urge to punch the woman. “Out.” She ordered. Lyria looked at her confused. “Follow me. Outside. Now.” Her voice was a command. Once the two women were outside Aelin finally let go of her anger. “How dare you?” Her voice was full of rage “How dare you treat him like that? Do you have a heart? That man loved you. You were engaged to him. How can you be so mean?” “You are definitely not his type.” Lyria said with a bored expression. Aelin growled “What I am does not matter. What matter is how you treated him and I cannot stand that.” Lyria laughed “Gods, you are in love with him. You just fell for the most boring man alive.” Aelin’s hand clenched “he is not boring. He is a very interesting person, and he is funny.” Lyria’s mocking laughter reverberated in the street “Funny? Rowan funny?” “Maybe he was not funny because of you. Maybe you are the boring one.” Aelin spread her arms and challenged her “Maybe you are the one who is not his type. He likes them with a brain, by the way.” And this time she noticed a reaction in Lyria. “Well, if you love him so much he is all yours. I haven’t had any need of him in a long time.” Aelin was second away from inflicting some form of physical pain on the woman, but then she noticed Lyria’s expression change and a veil of softness appeared in the lines of her face “He was a good man before his injury, and I believe he still is. But after his injury he had to stop competing and something broke in him.” She looked at Aelin “I still loved him deeply at the time. The shop became his new dream. I followed and supported him for a while. He proposed and I said yes, the realised that I was in love with an old version of Rowan and I just left him.” Lyria sat on the bench in front of the community centre “He is a good man. He is sweet and caring. He is perfect for someone.” She finally confessed and Aelin could note a spark of the love she once had for him “But not for me. He became this man obsessed with family and after he proposed he started talking about the future. Our future. He wants the whole romantic deal. I didn’t and I still don’t care for all of it. He deserves to be with someone who can give him that.” Her brown eyes now bore into Aelin’s “And if you can’t give him that, don’t even start this relationship. I hurt him enough. He does not need more pain.” And with that she left and Aelin was stunned at the woman’s words. She felt like crying. She had to talk to Rowan but she had no idea where he went. A text could get her that answer but she doubted he would answer. He clearly needed time alone. So her steps took her down to the marina, she watched the morning ferry dock and people disembark, then with new resolution walked back to the bookshop and opened again without him. The afternoon felt wrong. Not having Rowan in the shop left her with a sense of emptiness. Later in the evening, Aelin was about to switch off the pc and close for the day when she noticed his screensaver. Recognition dawned on her. It was a picture of Butt of Lewis and, if her mind was not playing tricks, she had heard him once mention the fact that he loved that place. She had her answer. Quickly she closed up the shop, locked the door behind her and swiftly ran home. A gut feeling told her that Rowan was at the lighthouse.

It was half an hour later when she arrived at her destination, and when she spotted his car she knew she had been correct. But now doubt settled in her. He had clearly come to this place to stay alone and think and she did not want to intrude. But she could not remove from her mind the hurt expression she saw on him at the cafe. She had to do something. Try at least. And if he’d end shouting at her… well. She’d take that. She got off the car and slowly walked to him. His back to her he was sitting at the edge of the cliff and he was staring at the sea crashing against the cliffs. She was behind him when she heard his voice “I am okay.” He said gruffly. Aelin’s chest tightened. That was not the voice of a person who was okay. Quietly she sat beside him in silence. And for a while they sat side by side staring at the sea. He would talk when he was ready. She was not going to push him. “So, I opened the shop all by myself for the afternoon.” His head whipped to her side and she could spot a weak hint of a smile. “And we had a successful day. I placed a few orders for you and I think I got Miss McKinnon obsessed on a couple of series.” Rowan did not say anything, he just grabbed her hand and pulled her to him “Come here.” A moment later, Aelin was sitting between his legs, his arms wrapped around her and his chin on her shoulder. “I am sorry.” He whispered “It’s just…” Her hands were on his on her abdomen “Shh… no, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain yourself.” His arms were tighter around her and she leaned into his chest. “I had a chat with the bitch.” She felt him stiffen at her admission “I gave her a piece of my mind.” “I have no doubt about it.” “Ro, what happened to you? She said you changed after the injury.” Rowan sighed behind her. For a moment she thought he was not going to answer. That was a far too personal question but she needed to know more in order to understand this wonderful complicated man. “I was good. I loved swimming.” He told her “There had been talks as well for me to compete in the qualifiers for the Olympics. I was living the dream. I was still in Glasgow and had to balance uni and a professional sport but everything was perfect.” The pain in his voice was now clear and deep “Then I got back here and I did manage to continue to train. Lyria became my girlfriend and she loved the spotlight.” He sighed again “What I told you the other day was not the complete story.” She squeezed his hand, she hadn’t told him her whole story either “I kept competing for a while and I did manage to get into the qualifiers for the Olympics. Then one day my life just crashed and all went to hell. During training in the gym I was doing weights. An idiot bumped into me. I dropped the weights suddenly and ripped muscles and tendons. I needed surgery and in a matter of days my dream of the Olympics was gone. Recovery took a very long time.” Aelin gasped “that bad?” Rowan nodded “Butterfly stroke was my specialty. It’s a complicated one and after surgery it became impossible to do it again.” “I tried it once. I looked like a demented whale. It was embarrassing.” And finally she heard Rowan chuckle. “I took it badly and for a while I was… cathartic. But Lyria still was beside me. Then the idea for the bookshop came. I had always loved books and I thought that was the way for me to follow a new dream. And you know the rest.” Aelin twined her fingers in his “It’s a nice dream.” “It is.” “I think Lyria always resented me for my injury. I was famous in town and she loved being stopped and having other girl jealous at her for being with me.” “So I assume her current boyfriend is a Hollywood star.” Rowan squeezed the hand back. “I doubt it, but definitely someone with money and a big job. She… likes to be spoiled, and me being a professional swimmer paid a bit more than being a lousy bookshop owner.” “You are not lousy.” Her head turned and searched for his eyes, to tell him how much she believed him. “She sounds very shallow.” Rowan sighed again and Aelin felt a pang of guilt for making him talk about a part of his past life that clearly still did hurt “She wasn’t always like that. She changed a while ago. Her company of friends had changed and they became a sort of bad influence.” The wind had started to pick up a bit but Aelin had no intention of going back home and she decided it was time to tell Rowan her complete story. Her full reasons for moving in the middle of nowhere. He had opened up to her, she owed him at least that. “My story is not complete either. I told you about my failed marriage, but there is another reason while I escaped.” Rowan kissed the top of her head “You don’t have to.” “Yes, I do. You told me yours and I need to tell you mine. I want us to be honest to each other.” He gave her a squeeze in response. “I told you I was a doctor. I was working in St. Mary’s Hospital which is one of the major trauma centres in London. I slaved to be able to work there. They had a limited numbers for interns and I did manage to get in. Once I was officially a doctor I started to slave to make my way up the ranks I kept working like a madwoman and did all I could to become one of the best. Then a few months ago our head of department announced he was going to retire. And I knew I was going to fight to get that job. I wanted to be the head of the cardio thoracic department. It was my dream, my goal. At the interview I thought I had the job. Two days later I get a phone call telling me that unfortunately the position had been given to another candidate.” Aelin breathed out to calm the rage. “I would have accepted it if they had chosen a candidate better than me. But they didn’t” “Let me guess. Daddy’s little boy or girl got it.” Aelin nodded “The son got it. This idiot who barely made it through med school got it because his dad pushed for it.” Aelin stood and began pacing feeling the need of release all the anger that surged in her every time she talked about that “I was in the middle on the divorce with Chaol. This was the last nail in the coffin. I kept going back to work but I hated it. So much.” With a swift movement Rowan stood and stopped her, placing his hands on her shoulders making sure she was facing him. “Then one day I saw a picture of a Scottish island and I decided that I was out of there. I took a sabbatical. Two week later I was on a plane to Glasgow. A week later I was here.” And the tears came back in full force. Rowan’s arms went around her and she sagged against him and wept until she was spent. “I am glad you came.” That was as much as Rowan could manage to tell her that he was madly in love with her. Baby steps, he kept telling himself. They clearly were far too hung-up on whatever happened before and they both needed time to heal, but he felt like they were finally getting there. Having Aelin in his arms was wonderful enough. He was happy to take anything that she was willing to give him just now. Even if it was just embraces, caressed or holding hands. He would wait for her. “Ro, when I said girlfriend before…” “I know, it’s fine.” And he squeezed her tighter then kissed her head. “I have an idea that will cheer you up hopefully.” She looked up at him and gave him a big smile “I am all ears.” “Tomorrow is Sunday and you know everything is closed on the islands and so is my shop. So, how about an adventure?” Her arms were around his neck in an instant “Yes!” “Let’s go back in the car, it’s getting cold and I’ll tell you my plan.” Aelin ran and Rowan laughed. And a few minutes later they were on their way back. “So, we are leaving the islands tomorrow. We are taking the ferry back to Ullapool. There are a couple of amazing spot that I want to show you. We need to take the ferry at 8am which means check in will be from 6am. Will you manage?” “Are you kidding me? I’ll be up and ready whenever you need me to.” Rowan’s hand went on hers and smiled her back “Good.” Once back in town Rowan drove Aelin home, feeling overprotective and all. She got off the car and he followed her in front of the house. “I’ll come and pick you up at six, is it okay?” “Perfect.” “Wear something comfortable but also layers and a windproof jacket. The forecast for tomorrow is really good, but it’s Scotland.” Aelin nodded. He brushed his hand gently against hers “I’ll se you tomorrow.” Aelin kissed his cheek “Tomorrow then.”

Once she was in the house she squealed in delight and texted Lysandra with an update. She was giddy. And finally happy.

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #aelin galythinius #fanfc #throne of glass series #lysandra #aedion x lysandra #fluff #angst

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ratonnhhaketon · 4 years

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See The Fire In Your Eyes (Chapter 4)

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Summary: Catherine Hays grew up in a picture-perfect, high society family in Virginia. She had her whole life planned out for her and was about to get married to a man she could not stand. When her brother uncovers a murder plot and has to pay with his own life, Catherine decides she can’t continue playing along. She takes control of her own destiny and goes south to a pretty little town called Blackwater.

Warnings: Swearing, Canon-typical violence, Kidnapping

Chapter 4 - Misadventures In Mail Delivery

It had been about two weeks or so since the incident with the stagecoach, and Catherine had definitely been keeping busy around camp. Mrs. Grimshaw quickly put her to work with the laundry, dishes, and assisting Pearson with the stew preparation. Adjusting to the life of an outlaw was a slow and strange process, especially after never having to do regular chores prior her entire life, but it was starting to feel normal. She even picked up new skills and hobbies that she enjoyed, like sewing, despite how many times she pricked herself while Tilly taught her the basics.

Catherine awoke to a particularly chilly morning and quickly got dressed in an effort to block out the cold air. A simple long-sleeved maroon shirt and a pair of black jeans, that she actually preferred over skirts after wearing them so often, accompanied her riding boots. She ran a brush through her tangled hair, taking time to pay special attention to a stubborn knot in the back, before putting it in a simple plait.

As she exited her small tent she raised her arms up and stretched, groaning a bit when her lower back popped a bit. Like every morning, she made a beeline to the fire and grabbed a cup of coffee.

Hosea called her over to the table he was currently sat at. “Would you mind taking a ride into town to pick up the mail?”

She gave a quick nod at him before downing the rest of her coffee. “Of course! What do we need?”

“Mrs. Grimshaw ordered some clothes and there are probably some letters for Dutch and myself.”

“Sounds good. I’ll get a move on now.” They shared a smile before Hosea returned his attention to the book in his lap and Catherine headed back to her tent. She grabbed the dark blue jacket that was slung on top of her clothing trunk before walking over to where Arthur, John, and Lenny were standing and enjoying their coffee. “Morning fellas,” she said with a warm smile as she pulled the jacket on.

The group replied with their own nods and small ‘morning’s of acknowledgement before she spoke up again. “Well I’m heading into town to grab the mail, any of you need me to pick up somethin’ from the store?”

Arthur spoke up first. “A pack of cigarettes would be nice.”

~~~~~

She looked between the other two as they just shook their heads. “Can do, Mr. Morgan. I should be back in an hour or so.”

The ride into town went smoothly as always. Catherine passed only a few people on the road, as the sun was still just over the horizon, and stopped at the post office first. She collected everything they needed, a stack of letters addressed to the ringleaders of the gang and a package for Miss Grimshaw. She securely strapped the package to the back of her horse before slipping the letters into the saddlebags and walking to the general store.

Catherine made a quick lap around the store, picking up Arthur’s request as well as a can of peaches for herself and some candies for Jack. As she stood at the counter to pay she felt someone staring at her and quickly looked around the store before taking note of the man paying a little too much attention to the box of biscuits in his hand. She passed the clerk a few bills before gathering her things and returning to her horse.

As she was putting the things into the saddlebags, that same looming presence of someone watching made itself known once again. Catherine quickly slipped the cigarettes and chocolate bar into the inner pocket of her jacket before she mounted and spurred her horse into a gallop to get out of town as fast as possible. When she was barely half a mile out of town the sound of steady hooves following her seemed to grow louder with each passing moment. She spared them a quick glance over her shoulder before turning off of the road and into the thick forest of Tall Trees.

Her mare protested every time she was spurred on to keep up her pace, but the stead never once slowed down. Catherine ducked and weaved through low hanging branches, keeping a hand held out in front of her face to avoid any collisions.

The sound of hooves only faded for a moment as she ducked into the forest before reappearing almost twice as loud. A small “shit!” escaped her lips as the sound of hooves and the edge of Tall Trees grew closer.

Catherine failed to realize that she was nearing a small cliff and, before she could slow down, her horse slid down the slope uncontrollably. Her mare began to freak out, frantically trying to regain its footing on the loose dirt and rocks, and bucked her off in the process. She fell to the ground with a hard thud, pain in her chest and the air fully gone from her lungs.

Between ragged breaths as she lay on the ground, trying to regain her breathing, she noticed the sounds of hooves had stopped and steady footsteps crunching leaves began to approach her. She tried to reach for her pistol but one of the men shot a bullet next to her head, obviously missing on purpose.

“The boss is gonna be very happy about this,” the other man chucked. The last thing she saw was her mare sprinting off in the direction of camp before the butt of a rifle knocked her out cold.

~~~~~

“Hey, Lenny!” Arthur called to the man on guard duty as he walked towards his horse. “Has Miss Hays gotten back yet?”

He adjusted the rifle in his hand as he turned to look back at the man behind him. “No, I haven’t seen her.”

“Damn, I could use that pack of cigarettes she promised.” No sooner than the words left his mouth did the steady gallop of hooves start to approach the camp. The two men looked towards the sound expecting to see the woman they were just discussing, but were met with her dark brown mare barreling down the path. Arthur, wasting no time at all, instinctively put his hands up to slow the horse and grab the reins. He calmed her down enough that she stopped moving, though she was still shaking her head and huffing from the unfamiliar contact.

The two men shared a glance before Lenny spoke up. “Well,” he exhaled. “This ain’t good.”

~~~~~

The world was a haze around Catherine as she started to come to her senses. The room she was in was mostly dark, with a small stream of light peeking in from the torn curtain. She blinked a few times to get her eyes adjusted to the space around her. It was a small room, with a mattress pushed against the opposite corner of the room and a table covered in playing cards and empty cigarette cartons next to her.

Her mouth was dry and tasted like metal. Her vision was still blurry from the darkness, but she could still tell her eyes were very swollen. Despite her whole body screaming and protesting against her, she tried to move. Her muscles ached against the rope tied around her hands and legs.

She stopped struggling when a male voice spoke up outside. “How much longer do we have to be in this shithole?”

Another man replied, “Another day or two, probably. Just waiting on Calvin to send word for us to send her back.”

She felt her stomach churn. Of course he was behind this.

The door to the cabin swung open and she could vaguely make out the shape of a man walking towards her. “Look who’s awake, boys!” As he walked closer she recognized the figure to be the man that shot at her earlier.

“I’d rather die than go back to that rat,” she spat, struggling against the ropes.

The man laughed and crouched down next to her. “As much as I would love to make that happen,” he said with a smile. “I’m afraid Mr. Foster specifically requested you be returned alive so he could decide exactly what to do with you.” He lifted up a hand to her cheek, stroking the soft skin with his thumb. God , she wanted to throw up. Or punch him in the face. “Pity though, that he gets to have all the fun with you. I bet you’d make a very-”

Before he could continue she moved her face to the right towards his hand and bit down hand, directly at the base of his thumb. He yanked his hand back and grabbed it, making sure that he wasn’t bleeding. Catherine looked at him with fire in her eyes and he returned the gaze with pure anger. “You bitch!!” he yelled, using his opposite hand to slap her across the face. Her head went back and hit off the hardwood of the wall behind her, a yelp of pain escaping her lips. The world started to spin around her and her vision started to get hazy. She vaguely heard the man spew some string of curse words at her before she blacked out.

~~~~~

The second time she woke was to gunfire outside of the small cabin. The men that captured her were not only yelling a lot between each other, but she had a feeling that they were losing the fight as well.

“Check inside, we’ll keep watch out here,” a distant voice said. It sounded hazy and muffled as it broke through the ringing of her ears.

The door to the house opened and she tightly shut her eyes from the heavy moonlight. After a moment she opened them to see a figure approaching her, to which she instinctively curled her bruised body further into a ball. Her figure shook violently from fear and the cold air surrounding her.

“Hey, s’okay. I ain’t gon’ hurt ya.” the figure spoke up in a soft tone. The voice was deep and gravelly but also gentle. One that felt familiar and safe.

She looked up with tears in her half-lidded eyes and said, “Arthur?” Her voice was weak and sounded almost like a wheeze.

“Shhh, it’s alright. We’re gon’ getcha outta here.” He carefully cut the ropes on her arms and hands. “Can ya walk?” When Catherine slowly shook her head Arthur bent down to slide his arms under her legs and behind her back. He hoisted her body up- to which she let out a loud cry of pain- and walked back out of the small cabin, careful to not hit her against the doorframe. She rested her head against his chest as they walked to try and stop the world from spinning around her.

For the first time in what was probably days she felt safe.

“Take her back to camp,” another voice spoke up. “We’ll stay back for a bit and make sure no one is left.” Arthur sat her on the front of his horse’s saddle and carefully got in behind her to assure she wouldn’t fall during the ride.

As they rode off back towards camp Catherine kept her head propped up against Arthur’s chest with her eyes closed, desperately trying to ignore the aching pain her body felt as the horse galloped. Her right hand clutched the front of his shirt, her legs dangling over the side of the horse, and a few stray tears leaked out of her eyes.

“Well be back soon, just stay with me.” She felt his chest rumble against her head as he spoke and groaned out in pain, to which he instinctively wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I know it hurts but we’ll be back soon.”

She started to feel lightheaded and groggy. Using the last of her strength, Catherine opened her puffy eyes and looked up at Arthur. “Wasn’t.. O’Driscolls,” she murmured, voice nearly giving out at the end.

The last thing she heard was Arthur’s confused “What?” before her field of view was swallowed into blackness and she slipped out of consciousness again.

~~~~~

Catherine didn’t remember much of what happened after that. She remembered a lot of yelling, people rushing around, and what she thinks was Arthur and Lenny talking. When she was finally fully conscious she woke up to a very dry mouth and almost every part of her body in pain. She looked at her surroundings and realized she was back at camp, in her tent, with Hosea reading a book beside her cot. Upon noticing her awake he smiled and shut the book, and reaching for a cup of water he had resting on the crate next to her.

“Good to see you awake, Catherine.” He helped her lean up and drink, reminding her to go slow and breathe so she didn’t choke. “You gave us all quite the scare.”

Before she could reply the flap to her tent was opened and Arthur’s familiar hat peaked in. “Glad to see you’re up.”

She felt the corner of her mouth turn up in a light smile at his voice. Hosea waved Arthur in and stood before saying, “I’ll let you catch her up on everything, but make sure she eats something and gets a lot of rest.” He gave Arthur a pat on the arm before leaving and closing the tent’s canvas.

“How..” she started, struggling to speak as her throat was still sore and voice was almost gone. “How long was I out?”

Arthur sat down in the chair next to her and leaned back. “A few days. You’ve been in and out a couple times, but never as aware as ya’ are now. Hell, Reverend was considerin’ reading you yer last rights last time you were conscious.” They shared a chuckle at the thought before Arthur continued. “Took a hell of a beating back there but at least Miss Grimshaw will go easy on you for a while.”

Arthur looked at her for a second and took in her features. “Do you have any idea who those men were? ‘Cause you said they ain’t O’Driscolls when we were coming back to camp.”

She let out a sigh. “Yeah, I do.” Her gaze shifted from him to the canvas covering the top of the tent. “Calvin sent them. The man I was supposed to marry.”

He looked down at his feet and nodded, before looking back up at her a moment later. “I’m guessing he’s not too happy you left your old life?”

Catherine’s eyes returned to the man next to her. “Not at all.” She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked down at her hands, her thumbs fidgeting together in her lap. “I’m sorry you have to deal with this. I didn’t want to get you all wrapped into more problems than you already have.”

Arthur leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Catherine,” he said with a sincere tone, “You’re a part of this gang now, which makes you family. And as a family one person’s problems become a concern for all of us. If this son of a bitch shows his face again we’ll take care of it.”

She smiled at the sincerity of his words, tears threatening her eyes. The two sat in silence for a moment, enjoying each other’s company before a thought popped into her head. “Oh!” she said suddenly. “Is my horse alright?”

Arthur chuckled at her concern. “She’s perfectly fine. An hour or two after you left she showed back up at camp without you, so me and Lenny figured you were in trouble. Real smart girl you got there, seeing as she was able to bring herself all the way back to camp on her own.”

Catherine smiled at the good news. “Thank god she’s alright.” Her eyes drifted to the trunk on the floor next to Arthur’s chair and she spotted her jacket laying on top of it. “Arthur, could you grab my jacket for me?” She gestured with her right hand to where it lay and he picked it up before gently laying it on the bed next to her. “Before I forget,” she said with a smirk as she reached into the pocket on the inner lining. “You might be wanting these.” She handed over the, now slightly squashed, pack of cigarettes to him.

He laughed as he accepted the gift, having nearly forgotten that he even asked for them. “Thank you very much, Miss Hays.”

“Consider it payment for rescuing me from my captors.”

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 4 years

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Finding Your Heart - fic

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson, bits of Tim Drake and Stephanie Brown Summary: This wasn’t the way he wanted to find Damian, after everything that happened between them. This wasn’t how he wanted Alfred and Dick to reunite with him either. A/N: Dick was driving the plane. Crane blew up the building on purpose to cover his tracks, and was the one to lock Damian in the lab after he and the nameless henchmen fought. The whole family comes home and basically all live in the cave/Damian’s room as he recovers, and they all have conversations with him about what he was doing, why etc. Damian didn’t kill the guy who stabbed him because he recognized the henchmen was no the problem, Crane was. He’s still a good boy in my book. Glossed over kind of plotholes because I didn’t care enough and it wasn’t the point of this story ok bye. Don’t forget my Pateron and shit!

If Bruce was grateful for anything, it was the fact that no matter what he lost, save for his parents, it always came back.

Jason came back. Dick came back. Tim came back. Stephanie came back.

Alfred, now, came back too.

Damian…he came back. And then he left again.

It was in the back of his mind, as they celebrated Alfred’s return to life, and Dick’s return from amnesia. The fact that their returns were not through darkness, not through aliens, not through a multiverse crashing down around them and changing time.

It was magic. It was a miracle.

But Damian wasn’t here. And Bruce would never ever forget that. Not now, as they shared delivery pizza at the island in the manor’s spacious kitchen. Not in the days after, as things settled back into a semblance of the old normal, with new quirks here and there. Not in the weeks after either, as Alfred returned to being Penny-One, and Dick began to retrain himself to return to the Nightwing title soon.

Just as Bruce would never forget the tears in Dick’s eyes when he explained to him and Alfred what had happened to their youngest. His breakdown, and resolve in the violence. When he explained why.

“It’s not your fault.” Bruce promised, even as Alfred pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and silently dabbed his eyes. “It’s mine. I…I didn’t see his grief. I didn’t understand how badly he was taking your absences. I didn’t know.”

“But I would have.” Alfred had whispered, closing his eyes.

“We would have.” Dick corrected.

And he’d never forget the despair on grandfather and son alike, when Dick asked if Bruce had any idea where he was, and he had to tell them no.

Damian was a sore subject, to say the least, after that. No one spoke of him, though Bruce found everyone stopping near the case holding his old uniform every so often.

Not a memorial for the dead, this time. But a memorial for the child they failed.

His name was like a bad word, a sour taste, and Bruce never forgot that either.

Most of all, he never forgot it was his fault.

Even now, as he, Tim and Stephanie fought against a gang that he had yet to determine which super villain they associated with, he thought of his son. The one not there, the one he chased away.

How much he could use his help right now. How much he missed him.

God, if Jason knew, he’d be furious. Furious because he didn’t learn the first time around, with him.

The fight was in the streets, and it was becoming a stalemate. Not that he and his partners for the evening would give up. But he was looking for an opening, a moment to retreat, regroup, then reappear with a new attack plan.

But the moment never came, because suddenly one of their enemies shouted.

“Boss said it’s a go! She’s blowin’!”

Before any of them could comprehend the warning, a building down the block – a lab, if Bruce had his bearings right – shuddered in an explosion. Glass from windows spraying into the street, flames pushing out right after. Dust and ash came at them in a typhoon-like wave.

And the gang members in the street laughed.

“You’re fucked.” One nearby cackled. When he came back into view, he had a gasmask on. “You’re so fucked, Batman.”

Bruce punched him in the Adam’s apple, and let him drop to the ground unconscious.

“Something’s in that building.” Bruce said through the comms. “How dangerous?”

“Gotham Labs.” Tim’s voice crackled. Bruce still couldn’t see him in the floating dust. “No major projects that I know of. Or dangerous. Vegan cosmetics was the last big thing I heard about coming from there.”

“And now it’s all up in flames?” Stephanie sighed. “So much for stealing Batman’s credit card on its launch date.”

“Spoiler, please.” Tim snorted.

Before Bruce could scold them, tell them to focus, get them to get these thugs off the street, there was a shriek from the lab, and a shape running from the destroyed building.

“Take care of them.” Bruce ordered. “I’m going up ahead.”

Stephanie and Tim both gave their affirmatives, and jumped back into fighting the henchmen, now with a small element of surprise in the fog. As Bruce ran forward, he saw the shape was a woman in a lab coat.

“Help!” She was screaming. “Someone…anyone! Police! Ambulance! Help!”

“Ma’am.” Bruce called as he approached, careful not to scare her. She turned towards him with tears cascading down her face.

Bruce frowned. She…was clean. No ash, no burns. Her hair wasn’t even out of place. He glanced back towards the building, now smoking.

“Are you alright?”

“What? Oh, me? Yes. I’m fine. We’re all fine.” She sniffed, trying to wipe at her face. “But he’s not. He’s trapped and…and I don’t think there’s any vents in there, and we can’t-”

“He who?”

“I…” The woman paused. “I don’t know. He didn’t give a name. He just…he just appeared! Out of nowhere! Got us all out of the lab, shoved us in the bunker, told us to stay there until help arrived. Then…then the explosion happened, and when we came out to check, he was still in the lab, but…but Batman…”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“He was bleeding when we saw him.” The woman’s tears suddenly flowed harder. “But the canisters were all broken, we could see them.”

“What was in the canisters?”

“I…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” The woman cried. “He…he was paying for our other research, and…and he was blackmailing us. We didn’t have a choice.”

Bruce’s stomach dropped.

“Who paid you?” He demanded. “What was in the canisters?”

“Fear gas.” The woman whispered. “Jonathan Crane was forcing us to make it. Mass produce. The…the boy tonight, he saved us, but whatever happened, all the canisters are broken, and the gas is in the lab.”

The woman hid her face.

“And there’s a failsafe on the doors.” She wailed. “That…that fucking shit is dangerous. So if even only one canister malfunctioned, the lab would seal itself shut to contain it.”

“For how long?” Bruce asked. “How long does the lab seal for?”

“I don’t know!” The woman yelled. “Crane installed it! He never told us!” She stopped her foot and pointed from where she came. “But he’s in there, the gas is flooding the place, he’s hurt, I didn’t see him have a respirator, and we can’t get him out!”

Bruce nodded, shoving his own respirator onto his face. “Stay here.”

The woman, surprisingly listened, but shouted information after him. The lab was in the basement, and the remaining scientists were still trying to first reach one of the doors to the lab through the explosion wreckage, and second, try to figure out if they could even open the door.

“Red Robin, when you’re finished, I’ll need you inside.” Bruce called through his communicator as he burst through the doors and looked for a way down. Not hard, when there were various holes in the floor from the explosion. “And both of you, there’s a potential for fear gas in the area. Masks on, now.”

They both returned an affirmative, and Barbara was immediately on the line herself, relaying last known sightings of the Scarecrow.

As Bruce got to the lower levels, he began to follow the voices, the sounds of things being thrown, or pushed. After a few rounded corners, he found the gaggle of scientists, three pushing fallen shelving units and chairs away from a large metal door, and a fourth knelt in front of said door, typing wildly on a keypad.

“It’s…it’s not working!” The typer growled in frustration. “There’s…there’s nothing I can think of! Nothing is working!”

“Then keep thinking!” Another one spat as he threw a table over the heads of the other two assisting him. “That kid is a fucking goner if we don’t get him out of there!”

Unlike the woman outside, Bruce didn’t announce his presence, just silently moved forward. As he reached them, he glanced into one of the windows next to the door, just to see what he was going to be working with. Who he was, hopefully, going to save, and not have to watch die a slow and painful death.

Immediately, his knees went weak.

The lab wasn’t that big. Smaller than an average fast food joint, but bigger than a grocery store public bathroom. Even through the opaque green gas, Bruce could see canisters lining the floor underneath the tables that followed the walls of the room, where microscopes, liquid-filled vials and partially constructed containers sat.

Each canister had a sizable hole in the side, and Bruce could only guess – remote detonation.

But none of that was important, not now, as he tried to stop himself from collapsing to his knees. What was important was the boy in the middle, wearing a black body suit, similar to Nightwing’s, and a black cape with a hood and faded gold trim.

Damian.

“Jesus Christ, no.” He gasped. The scientists nearby jumped, having still not seen him.

Luckily, it was Gotham, and even scientists were disillusioned to the sudden appearance of a vigilante. “We’ve gotta get that kid out of there, Bats. Just one inhale of that crap will make you hallucinate. He’s been in there at least ten minutes, probably more, who knows what the effects could be.”

“Death, probably.” Another one said. The one who spoke slapped her on the arm. “What? I’m being honest! That’s why we don’t have to waste, here!”

Damian hadn’t moved at their ruckus. He was lying on the ground, eyes closed, half curled in on himself, hand clutching his side. There was blood on his fingers, and coming from his nose. Even through the gas, Damian looked dirty. Tired.

Bruce wondered where he’d been sleeping. Was he sleeping? Was he safe?

But then his heart stuttered again, as he noticed something else in the room. In the corner, by a door on the other side of the room. A man. A body.

A body that was, surprisingly, breathing. A body dressed like the gang members outside, that was wearing a respirator that looked suspiciously like one Bruce knew Damian used to carry, when he was Robin.

“…You all need to get out.” Bruce found himself croaking, as his surprise and heartache began to transform into action.

“What? No way. We need to get that kid out!” The one at the keyboard countered. “And…and maybe that other one, I don’t know if he’s even still…”

“I’ll handle it. Now go.” Bruce heard a click on his communicator, other chatter. Alfred it sounded like, to Barbara. Dick, too. He was at the cave with Alfred. The scientists didn’t move. “I said now!”

The four jumped again, and one by one began to slowly move. The last one, the man at the door, stopped on his way. “…You get that kid out, Batman, or so fucking help me.”

Bruce glared down at him. The man shrunk away and ran after his coworkers.

Bruce looked back into the room. The man in the corner was unconscious, he could tell that much. But still.

Bruce put his hand on the window. “…I don’t know what to call you.”

Damian twitched at the noise, and twisted his head to look at Bruce directly. His mask was still green, and it didn’t move as he frowned.

“Oh, great.” Damian sighed, dropping his head. “You.”

“I’m going to get you out, son.” Bruce said. “I promise.”

“Save it.” Damian huffed. But it was quick, and Bruce knew it was because he was trying not to breathe. “I’m not talking to you, Mother.”

Bruce blinked.

The gas. The hallucinations were your fears.

“It’s…it’s me.” Bruce tried instead. “Not your mother.”

Damian turned away, rolled with a groan to lay on his back. “My father doesn’t show up in real life, why would he show up in a fear-induced hallucination?”

Bruce almost smiled at his attitude. He was trying to fight the gas, like it was a sentient being. That was so like him.

God, Bruce missed it.

“I…Rob…” Bruce swallowed. “Da-”

“Do not say another word, Master Bruce.” Alfred scolded on the communicator. His voice was loud. “Focus on getting that door open.”

“I…right.” Bruce shook his head, and crouched, pulling out a code-breaking device from his utility belt.

“Tim will be in to help you in a few minutes.” Dick now, but he sounded distracted. “And we should be only a few minutes behind him.”

Bruce froze. “…What?”

“We’re coming.” Dick said plainly. “We’re coming to get Damian.”

“Wait, no.” Bruce growled. “Nightwing, you’re not recovered yet. A-Alfred, you’re…you are not to be in the field. It’s not safe-”

“And you will have your hands full with the other man in the chamber.” Alfred shot back. “Not to mention, you only have a respirator for yourself. From your cowl footage, it’s clear Damian gave his to that man. You know as soon as you get in there, he will be in the throws of the effects of the gas, and won’t recognize you. He doesn’t recognize you now. He will fight you, or flee, before you can get him any kind of help.”

“And we are not letting that happen.” Dick hissed. “We’re bringing Damian home, Bruce, or so help me-”

“It’s not safe.” Bruce snapped back, hitting buttons on his device. He could hear Damian babbling in the lab now. Talking about how he’s not scared of anything, least of all his father, or his judgment. Which, of course, Bruce knew, meant the complete opposite. He ignored the guilt in his heart, at least for a moment. “You are both to stay in the cave and wait for-”

“Bruce.” Alfred said coldly. “I am coming to get my grandson. Nightwing is coming to get his brother. And there is not a goddamn thing you can do to stop us.”

Bruce heard the distinct sound of a link click off.

“…So…” Stephanie chimed in after a moment. “Red’s on his way in and…I guess I’ll wait out here for Nightwing and, uh, Penny-One to arrive.”

Bruce frowned, squeezed the device in his hand a little too tightly, heard it creak in his grip. He continued to search through codes, the others be damned.

They didn’t know what he would do. Their beliefs were wrong. He wouldn’t worry about the man who clearly stabbed his son. He was unconscious and had a breather. He was fine. Tim could take him, whenever he got there.

No. Bruce would rush in, and he’d take his son into his arms. He’d put pressure on the wound, and hold his boy, no matter how hard Damian fought him, no matter how deep in the gas’s hallucinations he was.

He’d hold his son and this time, he was not letting go. For anything, or anyone.

He heard Tim arrive behind him, and glanced back into the chamber as Tim pulled a wire from his glove to plug into the keypad on the door. Damian was muttering to himself now. But more than that, he was trembling. Sweating. His eyes were wild behind the mask, darting back and forth, or trying to keep them closed, and failing.

He stood, put his hand on the thick glass. He wondered what Damian was seeing, hearing. “Son.” He called, and Damian twitched, curling deeper into himself. “Focus on my voice.”

“No.” Damian shot back.

“Batman, it’s not a good idea.” Tim offered, clicking away on his pad. “You know he’s hearing things. It’s not coming across as you.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t try.”

“Doesn’t mean it won’t be construed into something else by the time he hears it.” Tim snapped. “You know that.”

“So you want him to lie in there and suffer?” Bruce shot back. He saw Tim tighten his jaw. “The least we can do is try.”

“The least we can do is focus on getting him out of there.” Tim countered. “So save your emotional vomit for later and help me.”

He huffed a frustrated breath, but…Tim was right. Of course Tim was right. So he pushed at the door, testing how tight it was, if the explosion had loosened it at all, and settled back in next to Red Robin to hack into the system.

The code was seven digits, and after they believed they figured out three, Bruce glanced over to make sure Tim had his respirator on. Glanced up at the unsteady building around them, that could theoretically collapse on them all at any moment. After four numbers, he glanced back to Damian. His trembles had manifested constant twitching now. Fingers, ankles, lips.

The gas seemed to be settling a little now, the room a little less green. That didn’t help, of course, since Damian was on the floor, where said gas was settling. But it would make containment easier. Wouldn’t reach the city, or any one who wasn’t in this room.

One less thing standing between he and his boy.

His heart fluttered when they hit the fifth digit. Hope, he could hope, he had hope. Damian had hope.

And when Tim’s device dinged for the sixth a moment later, Nightwing and Penny-One appeared in the doorway.

Dick was in his full Nightwing uniform, the one he hadn’t yet worn since before the amnesia. The one he was wearing when he was shot, Bruce realized, as he noticed the shadow of the large bloodstain on the costume’s neck.

Alfred was in black and dull green tactical gear, a black eye mask and a clear respirator adorning his face. He had a shotgun in hand, but Bruce saw at least one more handgun on his hip.

He forgot sometimes, Alfred used to be in the British army.

“Move.” Alfred demanded. Tim shifted to the side of the door, eyes still on his tablet. Bruce didn’t. “Batman, I won’t ask again.”

“He really won’t.” Nightwing mused as they walked forward. He was just finishing putting on his own rebreather. “Seriously, Bruce. Let us handle this.”

“He is my son.” Bruce countered, but his voice wasn’t right. It wasn’t as authoritative. It was almost whiny.

Almost scared.

“And you ran him off in the first place.” Alfred countered. “So the likelihood that you are the first one he’d want to see is almost zero.”

“Not to mention, there’s an asshole in there who, by the looks of it, stabbed him.” Nightwing added, glancing into the window. “So it’d probably be better if you took care of that guy than one of us because let me tell you, B. We’re already not happy.”

Alfred pumped his shotgun. “Indeed.”

“We’d also like some cover, if you don’t mind.” Dick said brightly. “There’s still been no sign of Crane. And if he or anyone else shows up while we’re trying to wrangle Damian, there could be trouble.” Dick looked over with a dark grin. “And we don’t want any more trouble, you know?”

And he did. Bruce did know. Bruce knew all of that, and on a normal case, he’d have already suggested and done all of it.

But, still. His heart was getting in the way. For once, his heart was overriding his head, and all he found himself saying was, “But he’s my son…”

For the first time that night, Alfred softened a little. He put a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “So let us help you get your son home safely.”

At that moment, Damian screamed. No words, just a loud sound as he dropped to his back, body bowing as his chest and hips lifted.

Dick swallowed. “Red.”

“I’m working on it!” Tim snapped, angrily punching buttons on his tablet. There was the sound of something falling across the room. “I think if I can just…”

The tablet beeped, and the door sighed as the seal broke.

Dick was at the door instantly, digging his fingers into the seam until the door shifted. Bruce grabbed it too, pulling it until the gap was wide enough for their bodies to slip through.

“Kid!” Dick was calling as he fell into the room first. Damian growled in response. Dick jumped across the room anyway, dropping to his knees. “I’ve got you.”

Tim got into the room next, and he silently went for Damian’s assailant. Then Alfred, who followed Dick. Bruce remained just inside the room.

“Can you hear me?” Dick asked quietly, running his hand over Damian’s hair. “Can you hear me, D?”

“Fuck off.” Damian gasped, pulling away from Dick’s hand and struggling to twist up onto his elbows. His cape twisted around his biceps. “F-fuck off, I don’t have to listen to you.”

“I know.” Dick said smoothly. He glanced at Alfred, who already had gauze out, and was trying to assess Damian’s injuries. “…Do you know who you’re talking to?”

“What, did Satan suddenly forget his own name?” Damian spat, waving his arm like he was swatting at a fly around his head. “We already had this conversation last time I was in Hell, you twat.”

Bruce felt himself twitch at the statement. But he didn’t get any more time to think about it, as Tim was calling, “Any time you feel like it, Batman!”

Bruce shook his head, running over to help Tim with the other man in the lab.

“So yes, I know your name. And I know what you’re going to say.” Damian droned as he slowly shifted to his knees. “I know my parents hate me. I know I’m worthless. I know it’s my fault everyone is dead. Or was there something else you’d like to add?”

“…Oh, my boy.” Alfred whispered, and Damian froze. His eyes went wide as he slowly sat back on his knees. “My boy, it’s alright.”

Damian blinked, and tears appeared in his eyes. Almost robotically, he turned his head towards Alfred. “No.”

Alfred smiled. “Yes, my dear. It’s me. I’m here.”

“No!” Damian wailed. He turned back towards the room, searching. Eventually his eyes landed on something above and behind Dick’s shoulder. “Get him out!”

Dick glanced behind him, just to make sure there was nothing, and even looked over towards Bruce and Tim. They both shrugged.

“Pennyworth does not belong in Hell.” Damian hissed. “You’ve stolen him, haven’t you. You’ve stolen him and you’ve trapped him here, you overgrown piece of shit. No wonder you were kicked out of Heaven, you absolute waste of space!”

Damian tried to lunge, but the slice in his side reacted to the movement, and he recoiled instantly, shoving his hand against it.

“I’ll duel you.” He decided. “I’ll duel you for his soul, and I’ll kill you. Then I’ll rule Hell, and I’ll be sure to get all the souls you’ve stolen out.”

“Damian.” Alfred tried softly. He passed the gauze to Dick. “My dear boy, I’m not in Hell.” He reached out and carefully took Damian’s hand between both of his. Damian’s eyes, impossibly, grew wider, as he turned to look at Alfred once more. “And neither are you.”

“I should be.” Damian breathed. “I should be for what I did to you.”

“You did nothing to me.” Alfred promised. “What happened wasn’t your fault.”

It was mine. Bruce thought, as he rolled the man and pulled his arms together for Tim. It was mine, and I let Damian take the blame.

“I should have done something. I should have figured something else out.” Damian gasped, tears rolling down his face. He jerked, but didn’t take his eyes off Alfred, as Dick pressed the gauze to his side. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Damian.” Alfred promised, squeezing Damian’s hand. “Absolutely nothing.”

“D, I need you to breathe.” Dick hummed. Damian jumped again, looked towards him. “Or, well, I need you to breathe slower. In and out.”

“I’m sorry.” Damian continued, eyes looking around the space, looking right through Dick. There was an accent in his voice now, and both Dick and Alfred knew too well that his accent only returned when their boy was at his lowest. “Pennyworth, I…I should have sacrificed myself. Bane would have happily killed me instead of you.”

“Don’t talk like that.” Alfred continued to try to soothe. “Damian, just focus on my voice, alright?”

“I should have let him kill me. I should have been there for Grayson.” Damian rambled. “I could have pushed him out of the way. Taken the bullet.” He tried to tug his hand from Alfred’s but the old man wouldn’t let go. “That’s why I’m here. That’s why I belong here. I failed you, and I failed Grayson and I am worthless so of course I belong down here in this god forsaken pl-”

“Hey.” Dick whispered. Balancing holding the pressure against Damian’s wound in one hand, he reached for Damian’s free hand with the other. Damian’s fingers twitched in his grip, and he watched with almost glee as recognition hit Damian’s eyes. “Kiddo, you didn’t fail me.”

Damian’s tears fell faster.

“You have never failed me a day in your life.” Dick smiled. “And look, see? I’m right here. I’m fine.”

“G-Grayson?” Damian murmured hopefully.

“Right here, Damian.” Dick nodded. Damian blinked at him, then looked at Alfred, then back. Then his eyes seemed to roam the room, like he was seeing it for the first time. He even looked over to Bruce, Tim and the man in the corner. “I came home.”

“…I’m sorry.” Damian whispered, looking back towards Dick. “I should have been there.”

Dick kept his grin, and shook his head. “No, you shouldn’t have.” He glanced behind Damian, watched as Alfred let go of his hand to reach into one of his pockets. It reappeared with the extra respirator they had brought, and he silently held the back of Damian’s head as he pressed it to his face. Once again, Damian didn’t seem to notice the action, nor Alfred retaking his hand. “I’m frankly real damn glad you weren’t.”

“It’s my job to protect Batman. My Batman.” Damian continued, frantically trying to blink the tears from his eyes. He turned to Alfred. “It’s my job to protect my family.”

“It’s not.” Alfred smiled too. “Your job as always been to allow us to love you, and to come home safe at the end of the day.”

“Your job is to be a kid.” Dick added. “Right now, your job is to not bleed out on this floor. Think you can do that for me?”

But Damian was shaking his head. Damian was pulling his trembling hands from theirs and hiding his face behind them as he doubled over himself and pressed his head to his knees.

“I’m sorry.” He cried. “I’m so sorry.”

“…I don’t think he believes they’re real.” Tim whispered as he leaned back from the unconscious man.

Bruce shook his head. “He won’t until his system is free of the gas.”

“Or until he stops losing blood.” Tim hummed. “We’ve gotta get him back to the cave.”

“I’m so sorry.” Damian continued across the room. “Please forgive me. Please, please forgive me.”

“…I agree.” Bruce sighed. He watched as Alfred pulled Damian’s hand back into his, and ran the other along the back of his head. As Dick, keeping one hand against the injury, wrapped his arm around Damian’s back and leaned his cheek on his shaking spine. “We need to get him home.”

“Want me to deal with this guy while you go with them?” Tim asked, pushing himself onto his feet.

Bruce watched for a moment longer. Listened as Damian sobbed, as Damian hated himself. Watched as Dick closed his eyes in sorrow, as Alfred wiped away his own tears too.

“No, I’ll…I’ll stay. They have him.” Bruce admitted, despite how tight his heart felt. “The more of us finishing this up, the faster we can all get home and be with him.” Tim nodded and helped Bruce to his feet, then leaned over to haul the man up. “…Nightwing.”

Dick opened his eyes and glanced over. After a moment, he nodded and sat back up. “Alfie.”

Alfred nodded too, reaching into another pocket and pulling out a syringe. Dick gently rolled Damian to his side, which Damian surprisingly allowed, and carefully gathered the boy into his arms.

“P-Please forgive me.” Damian continued, still hiding his eyes behind his one hand. As soon as he was settled, Alfred leaned forward and plunged the needle into his throat.

Like everything else, the fear gas made it so Damian didn’t notice.

They were all silent as the effects took hold. As Damian’s cries slowed, and tapered off into slow, watery breathes. As his hand dropped from his face in unconsciousness.

It was like a funeral procession as they left the remnants of the lab. Dick first, Damian in his arms. Alfred right behind them. Tim and Bruce bringing up the rear with the nameless man between them.

On the street, the GCPD were already swarming, taking the rest of the gang into custody. The plane Alfred and Dick brought sat in the middle of the road not far away.

“Get him home.” Bruce murmured as he passed Dick. “Call with any updates. We should be back soon.”

“Take your time.” Dick hummed. “It’s going to take us a while to get him stable.”

Bruce nodded, and gave Dick’s shoulder a grateful squeeze. He nodded to Alfred, who gave him a grim smile, and then they parted ways. Bruce watched as they loaded into the plane, as it took off down the street.

He exhaled, and let himself smile, just a little.

He’d found him. He’d found his boy.

It was another two or so hours before the rest of them could clamor home, the city saved, the day won. They’d found Crane, and they each took an extra punch or two to him, in honor of Damian.

But when Bruce stepped out of the Batmobile in the cave, the first sound to greet his ears was Damian crying. Still.

He frowned as he moved up the stairs. Had the gas not worn off yet? Why hadn’t they given him an antidote?

But he stopped as the medbay came into view. Damian was hooked up to every machine available, injuries bandaged and Dick was lying next to him on the cot. Damian himself was sat up, and engulfed in the embrace of one Alfred Pennyworth.

“You’re alive.” He was wailing, clinging to Alfred’s torso. To Dick, who was rubbing his back, he cried, “You came back.” Then to both, even as Alfred tried to wipe at the boy’s eyes. “You’re both here.”

“Like we could ever stay away from you, kiddo.” Dick smirked.

But still, among the tears of relief and reunion, was the litany that wasn’t as influenced as the fear gas as they’d hoped.

“I’m sorry.” Damian whispered. Alfred just stroked at his hair. Dick just rolled over and wrapped his arms around his waist, careful of the now bandaged stab wound nearby. “I’m so sorry. For everything that’s happened. For everything I did. Everything I didn’t do.”

It was something they’d have to work on, all of them. And a confrontation was coming, Bruce knew. But that was okay. That was fine. It didn’t matter. There was only one thing that mattered. One thing that Bruce, and everyone, was grateful for.

Damian was home.

#Damian Wayne #bruce wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #dick grayson #Tim Drake

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1-whitemanswhore · 4 years

Text

Who’s Your Daddy

Summary: You’re promoting your new sexy film with costar Tom Holland while your boyfriend, Jake Gyllenhaal, promotes his own film on the same talk show

Warnings: Some cursing, daddy kink mention, implied smut

A/N: First fic ever. Needed more Jake G content. Sorry it’s longer than intended. Hope someone out there enjoys it <3

You found yourself strategically placed on Graham Norton’s couch between your costar Tom Holland and your boyfriend Jake Gyllenhaal. The show’s producers knew exactly what they were doing sitting the three of you together. In their minds it would be comedy gold. Tom and you had been on the road promoting your new film. It was a smaller and more adult project than Tom had done as of late, since he mostly spent the past few years consumed with the MCU. Meanwhile your career had been on the rise. You had made the transition from stage to the big screen. Well, the kinda big screen. Mostly indie films like this one. In this movie you played a college student in the 90’s majoring in Psychology and minoring in women’s studies. Your character came from a conservative family and had a backstory that made the way she viewed and experienced sex...complicated. After leaving her family behind to go to college she aspires to pursue a career in sex therapy to help others and also find herself...sexually. She meets up with Tom’s character and lots of sex, feelings, and emotional healing follow.

The time on the road promoting the film had been fun, but you had really been missing Jake who was out promoting his own movie. You didn’t know how you would survive another 3 weeks without seeing him in person, but as luck would have it, someone had to cancel their spot on The Graham Norton Show the night you were going to be on. Jake who was also doing press was only a train ride away and was asked to fill the spot. So now there you were on sitting with Jake to your left, Tom to your right, and Ewan McGregor to the right of Tom. All of you with your alcoholic drink of choice sitting in front of you.

“Hello everyone, welcome,” Graham began. “And I feel like we should get this out of the way now. Jake is this a bit awkward for you?”

Jake scrunched his face, feigning confusion. “I don’t know what you mean. Are you talking about you singling me out first? Cuz, yeah, I'm a little uncomfortable,” he said letting out a small chuckle.

Graham smirked as he attempted to stir up some trouble. “I only ask because as we all know, you and Tom had quite the broman-excuse me- romance while filming Spider-Man. And a few months ago we found out you’ve been dating (Y/N) for the past year. And now (Y/N) and Tom are promoting a film where they’re engaging in a lot of...”

“Physical activity,” you interject while raising your left eyebrow with a smirk.

“Sure,” graham said. “Let’s stick with that.”

“You know this isn’t American television. You’re free to say ‘Fuck’” Ewan chimed in and the audience began to laugh. “The characters fuck.”

“Actually it wasn’t uncomfortable until this conversation began,” Jake laughed.

“I’m a little hurt you’re only asking about Jake’s feelings and not ours,” Tom added.

“(Y/N), nothing to add?” Graham inquired.

“I mean, I’ve gotten to make out with both of them, so I don’t really have any complaints. I consider myself to be pretty lucky in this situation.” Jake and Tom both chuckled along with the audience.

“Kind of making Tom seem like a side piece here.” Ewan said while giving Tom a sympathetic look.

“No I would say we’re more of a throuple.” You surprised yourself by saying it so deadpan. Tom sheepishly smiled. Jake choked on his drink but quickly recovered.

“True love.” Jake took another sip of his drink and looked directly at the camera before rolling his eyes.

“Must admit I’m feeling quiet excluded up here with them,” Ewan laughed.

“Tom you’ve had trouble in the past with breaking during scenes,” Graham stated. Jake laughed as he remembered trying to shoot a scene where he and Tom merely had to shake hands. Take, after take, after take, they could never get it down. “Did you have trouble with this movie as well?”

“To be fair, Jake and (Y/N) are both very funny people. I think that’s one thing that makes them such great scene partners, but...I think....well it’s also what makes them such terrible scene partners. It’s torture. I just can’t help myself sometimes.”

“Is there one particular scene that gave you trouble with (Y/N)?”

The smile on your face grew as Tom tried to figure out how to navigate his way through this question without embarrassing himself, you, and Jake too much. You on the other hand, were loving this moment. Jake was cool with the somewhat awkward situation of his girlfriend filming sex scenes with a close friend of his. It was work and he was a sweet, supportive, and loving boyfriend. He was absolutely perfect, but he was also a little shit. Before the show you met up for a, not as silent as you intended, quickie in your dressing room. Then he proceeded to tease you about the staff knowing what y’all did. But you enjoyed teasing each other and boy was this a great chance for you to get him good. And shit, you hadn’t eaten all day, so the alcohol was going to your head.

“I can think of a scene,” you said boldly. “Tom and I were shooting one of the sex scenes...” you paused as everyone around you snickered. You turned to glance at Jake to see his reaction. He was smirking back at you. He was curious to see where you were going to take this. “And during this scene I had to,” you couldn’t help but laugh at your own story, “I had to call Tom’s character ‘Daddy.’”

Jakes eyes widened as he leaned back on the couch and touched his beard. That’s not what he was expecting to hear. He let out a quick chuckle before making his face as serious as possible and sitting up straight. You were trying to get the words out but your own small laughs kept interrupting you.

“And I was having a hard enough time getting through the scene because I felt kinda ridiculous. Like no judgement, that’s some people’s thing but I was having a hard time keeping a straight face while doing it and...”

“‘Doing it.’” Ewan looked up at the audience giving them a funny look.

“She’s the one that usually prefers to be called daddy so it was a weird situation.” Jake interrupted with a deadpan delivery which only made you laugh at his joke harder. Your plan was beginning to backfire. You had been so ready to fluster him, but it was you and Tom who were now blushing and laughing uncomfortably.

You regained your poise and continued with your story. “So I’m having a hard time but I’m pushing through it and Tom was on the verge of losing it, probably, oh I don’t know...about every take.”

“Ok but you would change up the way you said it every single time! And you’d say it funny on purpose. How am I supposed to keep up with that?” Tom gestured to the audience looking for support.

“It’s called acting, Thomas,” Jake said with an eye roll.

“So we do a couple takes and Tom just keeps laughing. And I feel like I should mention that when I have to call him ‘daddy’ our characters are, well, they’re in the middle of fucking.” Your voice raised in pitch as you rushed through saying the word “fucking.” You took a moment to turn to Jake once again. The smirk reappeared on his face. He was leaning forward, waiting for you to continue your anecdote.

“So Tom’s on top of me and our bodies are pressed together so even when I can’t hear him laughing I can feel it. Eventually he decides that he should bury his face in my neck when I say the line so we can finally wrap up the scene. So we’re...going at it... I get to my line and before I can say ‘Daddy’ he pushes his face into my neck, and when I say finally said it he laughed,” the memory was make you crack up. Tom sat there slightly embarrassed as Jake continuously shook his head. “But this time his mouth was against my neck when he laughed and he just went ‘pfffffffft’ and basically blew a raspberry into my neck and spit on me and oh my god I fucking lost it. The whole crew lost it.”

With that the audience, Graham, and the entire couch busted out laughing. Tom put his face in his hands while you and Jake turned to each other laughing. Jake leaned forward so he could see Tom. “I see right through you, man. ‘Oh I just can’t seem to make it through this sex scene. Guess we’ll have to do it again and again.’ Is that why you and I couldn’t film a scene shaking hands? You just wanted to hold my hand for the day?”

You put your left hand on Jakes chest just under his gold chain. Your right hand finds itself on Tom’s shoulder. “Boys. Boys, please. Remember we are a throuple now. There’s no room for jealousy anymore.” You were joking, but also thought maybe if you innocently joked about it enough it might plant a seed you could harvest one day.

“Can I just promote my movie now?” Jake put his face in his hands to act annoyed and embarrassed, but was really just trying to hide his giggles.

Graham took back control over the interview asking Ewan about the upcoming Obi Wan show. You moved your hand to rest on Jake’s thigh as you thought about fucking him later in your hotel room and making him call you ‘Daddy.’

#jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal fic #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal x you #imagines #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x jake gyllenhaal

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drippinl0ve · 4 years

Text

truth or dare

—idol!haechan x reader

summary: you are the assistant for nct dream and they have all grown fond of you, especially one ray of sunshine.

genre: fluff, confession, friends to lovers

word count: 1.6k

warnings: idk maybe swearing and mention of sexual acts? its really just fluff tbh

You have no idea on how you scored your job as NCT Dream's personal assistant. There you were, just a kid who came straight out of high school, working at a café in the fall. The university of your choice had advised you to wait one more year until you turn 18, for "maturity reasons". When you took your interview for the university last spring, you apparently "didn't have the composure that they were looking for", as restated by your high school principal. Sure, you may have been giddy and extremely excited for your interview, but that doesn't mean that you are too immature for university just because you are an age younger than everyone else. It turned out fine in the end though, because that same giddy and excited energy is what landed you the job at SM.

The job description you were handed was very intense, due to the special circumstances. They basically needed someone for the Dreamies to hang out with and to confide in, therefore there was a lot of liability contracts to sign. The SM managers believed with your feverish attitude and your seemingly caring nature, along with your age, you would be a perfect fit to keep the boys preoccupied. Along with the job came rooming and all expenses paid for by the management agency. You, of course, got a small dorm that wasn't too far away from the Dream members'.

When you first arrived the boys were distant, not knowing how to react to a new person around, especially a pretty girl their age. It wasn't until you ran into Chenle in the hall late one night that the distance was broken. You were just on your way to get your late night pizza delivery from downstairs when you saw Chenle trying to sneak back into his room. He knew he was busted since he can't be out past 10 but the clock currently read 11:30. You assured him his secret was safe and even invited him to eat pizza with you out in the hallway. You guys briefly discussed each of your individual backgrounds that got you both to where you were now. To Chenle's surprise, you were his age and yet still so chill? It just kind of blew his mind that he now has a girl friend. He also helped introduce you to the other members.

After a few months at this job and being with them every single day, you have made a special connection with each one of the boys. Jisung and you always love to pull pranks on the older boys just so Jisung could say "maknae on top", Chenle and you just enjoy each other's presence and try out a lot of new restaurants and cafés together, you love to go on outings to art museums and galleries with Renjun, and Jeno and Jaemin almost never leave your side and are constantly trying to push you to do new things with them. As for Mark and Haechan, you do see less of them as they have to go to NCT 127 and U practices and such, but Haechan always seems to find time in between to come and hang out with you and the boys.

The boys took a fast notice to Haechan's reappearing presence after you came, and they simply put the pieces together. One day when you had left to your dorm to go shower and get ready for bed, Jeno, Jaemin, and Renjun all bombarded into Haechan's room.

"So... Haechan it seems that you have been spending more time than usual with us instead of with the 127 hyungs, why is that?", Jaemin slyly asks.

Haechan tried his best not to tense up and replied calmly with, "I guess I just love you guys".

Renjun was quick to retort, "I bet we are not all you love", a grin spreading onto Renjun and Jeno's faces.

Haechan swallowed the apparent lump in his throat, "W-what do you mean?", he let out a dry laugh, "are you accusing me of loving Y/N?".

"Hey! You said it, not us!", Jeno countered while pointing at him.

"C'mon, admit it. It's written all over your face whenever she's here", Renjun whined.

Haechan took a seat and rubbed his face to prevent exhaustion. He hadn't even come to terms with his feelings. All he knew was that he thought you were spectacular and he loved being around you. Every time you needed to run an errand for the boys, such as coffee pick up or groceries, he would insist to come with you. He loved helping you pick out your clothes and when you would give him a mini fashion show of the options in your hall. He always made sure that you were standing right off stage waiting for him after a performance, as your mere presence calmed his jittery nerves down greatly. Every stressful moment he has had where he wanted to quit being an idol, you were consistently there to help him get through it.

Haechan sighed, "I guess I do like her", he quietly mumbled.

Ever since that confession, the boys haven't left Haechan alone, but alas, they did promise to keep his secret. Chenle and Jisung aren't in on the secret, as you are too close with Chenle and Jisung can't keep a secret to save his life.

It was currently 11 o'clock on a Friday night and you stuck inside with the Dreamies (minus Mark since he could actually go to some music ceremony), but Haechan had decided to stay with the boys after he heard you were bored inside with them. After growing tired of watching the ceremony live, Jaemin had mischievously suggested on playing truth or dare. With Jaemin, Jeno, and Renjun giving each other sly glances, Haechan knew that something bad was going to come out of this game. Haechan quickly tried to stand up, saying he was tired from the full day he had, but Chenle pushed down on his shoulder to get him to reluctantly stay.

"Please hyung? You never hang out with us!", Chenle whined.

You made a pouty face towards him while giving your best, "pretty please?".

Haechan sighed while fully knowing deep down, he couldn't say 'no' to your face.

After getting Renjun to admit his love for Ariana Grande, daring Jisung to touch a cockroach, and forcing Chenle to be tickled brutally so Jeno could get a video of him laughing to post later, it was finally Donghyuck's turn.

Jaemin gave him a roguish grin as he asked "truth or dare?".

Haechan knew that if he says 'truth' then he will be forced to admit his feelings towards Y/N, so confidently he went with 'dare'.

"Okay hyung", Jaemin pondered, "I dare you to give Y/N a lap dance".

"WHAT?", was all that managed to come out as you were choking on your soda.

"It's no big deal really", Jaemin calmly stated, although he had a devious plan in mind.

Chenle and Jisung were shocked as their hyungs have never been so dirty before, and Renjun and Jeno exchanging nervous glances while Jaemin sat with full confidence staring at Haechan. Haechan was shocked, he could never do that to Y/N!

"I p-pick truth!", was all that managed to come out of his agape mouth.

"Hmmm", Jaemin absent mindlessly thought, though he already knew what he was going to say. "Tell us who you like".

"And no lying!", Jeno quickly chimed in.

Haechan stuttered and avoided eye contact from everyone, "I-I can't".

Jaemin rolled his eyes, knowing Haechan had to fess up eventually, "well, you either have to do the dare of performing a very sexual act or you can merely tell us all who you like".

Haechan glared at Jaemin as he sat there with the biggest smirk on his face, knowing exactly what he was pushing at.

"What's wrong, Donghyuckie?", you say completely oblivious to who he likes, "don't you trust us?".

His face immediately softens towards you, but before he can reply Renjun counters with, "it's not that he doesn't trust us, he just doesn't want to tell them".

Your face filled with confusion as you look around the dorm, but it is only the six of you. "Are they here, hyuck?", you ask cluelessly.

He gives you a shy nod while still looking down. Chenle and Jisung's eyes widen as they look at you. Then only did it hit you, this lovable ray of sunlight had a liking towards you. You let out a small chuckle as you think about how kind and generous he has been and you now know why. While you sit there smiling like an idiot to yourself, Haechan is still avoiding eye contact and is physically shaking. You stand up and grab his hand, pulling him up with you, as you lead him to the balcony.

The view of Seoul was breathtaking, you let it linger in your head before you started speaking.

"I like you too, Donghyuckie", you say while still looking out into the city.

His head slowly rose and he was speechless. Everything seemed to add up. You looked so beautiful with the city lights reflecting onto your skin as the light breeze blew into your hair.

"You make my days better just by your presence, you always seemingly know how to make me feel better, you and your stupid jokes time and time again make me laugh", you pause to let out a small laugh just thinking about his jokes, "you really are my ray of sunshine, Hyuck". You finally get the nerves to look over at him, only to see him staring with his mouth agape, you can't help but giggle he's so precious.

"Y/N, you don't know how long i've been waiting for this", he says eyes filled with amazement as if he just saw a shooting star.

"Well then don't wait any longer and take me out", you say somehow radiating confidence, although you're holding back a laugh.

"You read my mind, Y/N".

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vadaschiquita · 4 years

Text

Chiquita | Ch. 18

Chapter 17

It had been an agonizing game of musical chairs riddled with anxiety and unanswered questions sitting in the ER of a New Jersey hospital. From nurses, to doctors, to social workers had accosted Nevada with questions of her whereabouts and even threatened with police involvement when he’d refused to provide the answers they sought out of him.

Nina and Jess had sat with him, receiving the news of Mariana’s reappearance from Pucho. The both had shown up hastily, shouting his and her name to every medical personnel they managed to pass by from the second they’d entered the emergency room to the second they’d found him with his head in his hands. Jess had asked all the hard questions firsthand, attempting to keep her voice even as she got out of Nevada what truly had happened in the confines of the storage container in order to deflect any trouble without the need of lawyer.

“You gonna stop with the fucking leg bounce, Valentina?” he scolded his sister.

Nina sighed heavily, rolling her eyes as she came to a stand. “What the hell are they doing to her, Vada? She’s been in there for fucking ever!” she paced in front of the row of chairs.

Nevada trailed her with his eyes, leaning back, and stretching his leg in front of him. “Nina, you irritating my soul isn’t helping. Stop with the fucking questions… and the pacing!” he waved his hand towards her direction when he caught sights of a doctor approaching their general direction.

Nevada stood, pulling Nina behind him as the doctor smiled, “Mariana? Mariana Santos?”

“Yes, yes! How is she? How’s the baby? Can I see her?” Nevada shot in rapid fire, unable to stop when the doctor raised his hands in order to put a stop to his rambling.

“Easy, Mr. Santos,” the doctor appeased, checking the tablet in his hands. “There’s good news and there’s bad news. Now, I understand that she was in labor when brought in,” Nevada nodded, running his hands against his jaw at the mention of bad news. “Giving birth is a marathon and we need mom awake and alert in order for her to push. We considered taking her to the operating room and perform an emergency C-section, but baby was coming, and coming fast so we had to rely on medication to strengthen the contractions. That allows the contractions to be strong enough so that the patient doesn’t have to do anything.”

“O—Ok,” Nevada stumbled, looking over his shoulder to his sister for some type of assistance.

“Is the baby safe? Is she safe?” Nina asked, watching the helpless green in her brother’s eyes grow by the second.

“Yes, both Mariana and the baby are in good health,” the doctor smiled.

“But?” Nevada took a step forward.

“The oxytocin given to strengthen the contractions has left Mariana with an accelerated heart rate and some arrhythmias that are being monitored as we speak. Your son has a little bit of jaundice—nothing that we're worried about—and she’s protecting her airway as she should, but due to her arrhythmias and the stress her body endured for the amount of time she was in captivity, we’ve placed her in a medical induced coma and we’ll wean off sedation once we know her heart has recuperated. Other than that, we’ve stitched the gash at the back of her head, and we’re letting her body heal her other contusions and abrasions the natural way.”

“So—Son?” Nevada sighed, feeling his chest inflate at the thought of someone continuing his namesake to the world.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the doctor looked between Jess, Nina, and the appalled man in front of him. “I—I thought you knew the gender of the baby before—”

“No, no; we wanted to find out whenever they were born,” he chuckled, feeling his elation travel through his body. “Can—Can I see her? Please, doctor, I need to see my Chiquita—and my papito. Where—Where is he?”

The doctor smiled, cocking his head in the direction he’d emerged from, “Your son is currently in the NICU under bili-lights for his jaundice, but I can arrange for him to be brought to Mariana’s room so that the three of you can be together.”

Nevada nodded, falling into step with the doctor as they approached the ICU room where they’d placed Mariana.

Mariana’s doctor had done well by his training, keeping idle conversation as they accessed the main hospital through the emergency department, but Nevada had only heard some of it and answered to ten percent of what he’d heard. His mind was still crowded with the sounds of her cries as Ricky choked the near life out of her, the muddled sound her skull made against the concrete floor of the storage unit, and the whisper of his name from her lips when she’d finally noticed that he was real and there to not bring harm upon her.

If he needed to go home and return later on to Mariana’s room, he wouldn’t know the way to her.

He couldn’t stop thinking of the thousands of ways he’d failed her during her pregnancy, during her captivity, and how much he was failing her now. He knew nothing of being a father to a child, a child he did not want to raise without her.

The needs of a newborn were different to the ones of a toddler and child.

What little experience he had with children came from his ability of having cared for Sofía from a young age. He never kept her when she needed her mother at every turn, but once Sofía had been able to walk, to talk her way into basic needs, had been when he’d trusted himself to do more than just a prolonged visit to his sister’s place.

The severity of the situation weighed heavily on his shoulders, not only did he needed to care for a slightly vegetative Mariana, but now he had to care for a newborn that wouldn’t know his mother until the sedation could be weaned off.

“You’re free to go in and visit for as long as you please, Mr. Santos. I’ll make sure to speak with NICU nurses to bring by your son sooner rather than later.”

Nevada looked up at the doctor and extended his hand to him, shaking it for good measure. He’d never been one to engage in such… pleasantries, but there was no other way he could express the gratitude he had for him and his team in the roles played in Mariana’s safety and in the delivery of their son.

He entered the room slowly, hearing the soft air release the breathing machine produced indicative of Mariana’s in and outtake of air.

He coughed his sob, watching the bruising across her face, vivid against her ashen skin. Her hair and face had been cleaned of the blood, her wet clothes had most likely been tossed, and her stomach was as flat as he could remember before her pregnancy had taken over. Her wrists were securely tied to the bed and all the lines feeding her medication, food, and monitoring her heart rate were coming out of her body at her arms, chest, nose, and neck.

Nevada stood at the foot of the bed, taking in the feeble form of his Chiquita.

“Ay, Chiquita,” he mused, approaching the bedside. He took her hand in his, placing his lips to it multiple times, “You can't give up on me just yet, mami. Tenemos un varoncito, Mari…”

He pressed his forehead to her knuckles, feeling the tears escape his eyes when he sniffled, raising his eyes to her face. His knees were already protesting, but in comparison to what he knew she’d endured, slight discomfort showing his age and lack of continuous exercise were the least of his concerns.

It felt like hours of him staring at the beauty of her face even through the stains of Ricky’s work when soft cooing and an apologetic remark caught his ears.

He sniffled, following the noise with his head when he saw the nurse hauling in an acrylic box containing a small bundle of chunky joy. He stood, placing one more kiss on Mariana’s hand as an added bonus.

The nurse accommodated the acrylic box next to Mariana’s bed away from the IV pumps and other staff’s general way. She opened the side door, reaching inside for the baby to wrap him in the bili-blanket to maximize the results of the phototherapy.

“He already breastfed before we started her medications and he had his first bowels, so, little man is doing really great,” she turned, smiling at the stirring child in her arms. “We let them have skin-on-skin contact for about an hour, hence the reason it took us so long to come fetch you.”

He let go of a long breath of air unaware of its presence when the nurse placed his son in his arms. He hummed, watching the beautiful contours of his son’s face. He saw resemblances of Mariana’s features staring back at him: from the color of his skin, to the pout of his lips. Mesmerized by the beauty of his son, he almost missed the tap on his shoulder from the nurse offering him a comfortable chair so that he could sit and continue admiring the beautiful thing he’d helped bring to life.

“Por poco me matas, papito,” he mused, scoffing airily.

He smiled at his newborn son, running his thumb over the smooth flesh of his cheek. The baby stirred, scrunching his face, and sneezing consecutively.

“Dios te bendiga,” he smiled, leaning forward to press his lips against his forehead. He murmured his love for him, nuzzling his nose to the baby’s forehead, whispering a prayer over his son.

Nevada had never pegged himself a religious man, but more of a spiritual one. He respected the teachings of the Church, the ones instilled in him as a young boy by his mother. He proudly wore the gold cross gifted to him on the day of his thirteen birthday and whenever he played with lives too closely, forgot the teachings that his mother worked day and night for him to remember, he took time away on his knees, asking for forgiveness, and a little more clarity.

He knew the life he led was not ideal, but it had been fruitful.

It’d help him provide for his family, not only his sister, but his extended family in the Dominican Republic. And, now, with his son in his hands, and his Chiquita lying next to him, he knew that now more than ever, the need to work his ass off would quadruple and intensify.

The tip of the iceberg was what she knew—what everyone knew, but Nevada’s operation and connections ran deeper than that. Two people in his entire operation knew how deep his hooks were in the city, the two people he trusted with his life, and the two people he would trust with their lives from now on.

He’d made the mistake of not listening to her, of not allowing her to call her shots knowing that in the deepest existence of her body, all bells and whistles were going off when it came to Dylan Perrot, and that because of his mistake, he’d almost lost the love of his life without the chance of admitting his undying love for her. In consequence, he’d endangered the life of his then unborn child… deliberately! And for that, he’d never forgive himself.

Ten days it had been since the fateful night of the rescue and almost suicidal mission in Union City.

Nevada had set up camp in a hotel a couple of blocks from the hospital. He was there from the minute visitation started to the second it ended.

The nurses knew when he was coming, they knew the way he wanted things, how he wanted things, and they knew that if he saw something out of line, something that was out of place, the never ending tongue lashings would be the best part of their shifts.

They had a schedule set, one that for the last ten days everyone had abided to.

As soon as visiting hours started, Nevada would stroll in, without a word to anyone, and plant himself at Mariana’s bedside. Once the nurse noticed his presence in her room, they’d go in, let him know of the findings and progress, and confirm her nightly bath. If for any reason, the bath had not been completed, they’d assure him that it was the first thing on their to-do list once medication had been administered.

Minutes later, they’d roll the baby in and a breastfeeding nurse would help him latch against Mariana. All of the medication given had been cleared and safe for lactation, and once he was done, Nevada would burp him, and allow for skin-on-skin contact with his mother even if Mariana’s body remained unconscious.

She’d been free of sedation for six days, her body having flushed out all remaining harmful additives to her milk, and though still intubated, her reflexes and neurological responses were great, she just needed to wake up.

During quiet time, and after his feeding, they would take the baby back to the NICU. He’d been off the bili-lamps and blanket, but remained under observation for slight elevation of heart rate. Even though, hospital policy was for no visitors during quiet time, the nurses at the ICU where Mariana lain, allowed him to stay. He was never a bother and he never disrupted their workload.

“Chiquita,” he rasped, her hand in his. “Chiquita, stop being so fucking stubborn and open your eyes,” he scoffed ruefully, placing his lips to her knuckles. “Papito needs you, I—” he stopped; feeling the way his heart hanged on by a thread at the thought of losing Mariana.

He squeezed her hand in his, groaning softly to prevent his sob to fill the room. “I—” he sniffled, shaking his head.

He stood, lowering the bedside rail in order to hover over the still body of hers. He pressed his lips to her temple, tipping his chin to press his forehead to the side of her head. If he wanted her to wake up, then he’d coax her back to life. He would speak the unspoken words that threatened each and every second to come out of his mouth by the mere thought of her existence. He’d say the words like a prayer, a contract devoid of annulment until he’d gotten what he’d come looking for the past nine days: her eyes.

“I need you, Mari,” he whispered against her face. “Te amo, Chiquita. Te amo tanto…”

He sighed, pressing his lips to her brow, lingering at the spot until he felt her quiet stirring.

For her, it was like a large tunnel filled with echo. She heard the words he’d whisper to her every day, she heard the plight of his voice, and she heard the cry of her child. Now, she couldn’t discern what was real and what wasn’t, but the ache and discomfort she felt constricting her throat caused her eyes to shot open.

Nevada took a step back, “Mari, Mari—”

A cough broke through her, the vein in the middle of her forehead prominent with stress. The breathing machine had begun blinking red, making the most harrowing sound that filled the room. She attempted to raise her hands, but they’d been restrained as a precaution to prevent what could’ve happened had her hands been free of them.

The nurses were quick to enter the room. “What's going on here?” one of them asked with a small smile.

“I—” Nevada stumbled with his words, glancing at Mariana struggling to catch her breath.

Mariana continued coughing, her eyes bulging out of their sockets as she struggled to catch her breath. Nevada stood to the side and watched, listening to how the nurses were begging her to relax and take it easy.

“We’re going to have to give an Ativan bolus,” the nurse said, looking over her shoulder to one of her coworkers.

Nevada sprung into action, “No! No! Let me try something.”

The nurses paused, stepping back quickly to allow Nevada to stand besides Mariana.

Mariana was frantically scanning the room; only able to see the blurry, jumbled mess in front of her. She couldn’t focus her eyesight on anything concrete. The nurse’s face was unclear and she couldn’t hear over the blood rushing through her ears. She was tugging at her restraints when one of her hands was finally freed from them, but it’d been stopped mid air by a pair of hands she thought she recognized. She moved her head as carefully as possible, attempting to not stir further the discomfort in her throat.

“Mari, mami,” Nevada cooed, stepping closer to the bed to be in her line of sight. “Chiquita, you—you’re at the hospital. You have a tube down your throat that’s helping you breathe, mami, pero you can’t pull it off. I—I know, I know you want your hands free, but you have to promise me you’ll calm down, ok?”

The breathing machine lagged in its response, but it stopped its noise, just like the heart monitoring machine stopped its chirping. The room became quieter; the only sounds now were the low murmuring of the nursing team, and Nevada’s heartbeat in his ears.

Mariana’s vision still hadn’t clear. Not even after the fluttering blinking from her part. She squeezed Nevada’s hand as he brought it to his mouth to place a kiss to her fingers. She opened her hand, spreading her fingers along his jaw, flexing them to scratch at his beard. He hummed, closing his eyes, and enjoying the feel of her hands against his face.

Her eyes watered because even though she could not see him well enough, she still knew it was he. She would always know it was he.

A nurse placed her hand on his shoulder and he turned his head, “We’ve paged the doctor to see if we can get that tube out in the next couple of hours. Keep her calm and with company, ok?”

Nevada nodded, turning to grab in both of his hands one of hers. “Ay, mi Chiquita,” he breathed out.

A couple of hours indeed had gone by and Nevada decided to keep busy on the other side of the hospital where the NICU took place. They’d kicked him out, respectfully so, and not being able to sit on his ass quietly for more than a few minutes at a time, he’d busied his time in visiting his son over in the NICU, and allowing Nina to sit with them as well.

Nevada had returned and was now sitting across a very animated Mariana bickering her way with a doctor.

“That’s still not answering the question of my supply, doctor. Am I going to be able to breastfeed with this medication in my body?”

She sounded a little hoarse, but her… gumption and bravado seemed intact. “Yes, Miss Santos. We actually recommend labetalol for postpartum complications. You wouldn’t be the first nor the last of my patients who’s suffered some mild complication… that isn’t easily fixed,” the doctor said with a smile.

Mariana sighed, leaning back against the elevated headrest, giving a nod and a shy smile. “When can I eat? And, I mean, real food.”

The doctor nodded, “Unfortunately, due to the stress the tube puts on your throat, we want to make sure you heal for at least twenty-four hours before you can eat or drink anything. We are keeping the feeding tube until tomorrow, so we won’t completely starve you.”

“And, my vision?”

The doctor nodded and offered an apologetic smile. “I understand that it’s been blurry since you woke, but that your left eye is back to normal, now?” Mariana nodded, fidgeting with her flat sheet. The doctor sighed, tucking his arms in his white coat pockets, “There’s really nothing we can do about that, Miss Santos. You suffered a concussion to the occipital region of your brain on the left side, which figures why your right eye is still struggling to catch up. You just have to relax and let your body do its job.”

Mariana nodded and had resulted to silence when Nevada piped up, “How long?”

“Anywhere from a couple of days to a couple of weeks. We really do not know,” he offered simply.

“When can I—” Mariana’s musings had been put to a stop when the NICU nurse walked, rolling a fussy newborn baby in.

Nevada placed his coffee cup on the rolling tray lodged between Mariana’s bed and the chair as he stood, approaching the shrieking baby. He thanked the nurse just as the doctor excused his self. He bounced his knees, shushing his son lovingly, and placing a kiss to the baby’s cheek.

“Ready to meet our son?” Nevada asked with a smirk.

“Son?” Mariana said in a low gasp. “Ian…”

“Matías Alexander Ramirez,” Nevada corrected. “Meet the most incredible woman you’ll ever meet,” he finished, handing Mariana their son.

Mariana stretched her neck, waiting for Nevada’s impending kiss upon her lips. As soon as skin-to-skin contact had been made, Matías sighed, opening his beautiful eyes to search his mother’s face.

Mariana lowered the hospital gown at her shoulders. “He prefers the right one,” Nevada said with a wink.

“Nevada,” Mariana warned, adjusting the baby to suckle with the nurse’s help and guidance.

Once Matías latched, Mariana sighed, feeling tears spring into her eyes. She listened to the suckling noises he made, running her free hand through the soft jet strands on the baby’s head. She saw as her teardrop startled Matías and she chuckled ruefully, wiping away the tear from his face.

“Seven pounds, thirteen ounces, and twenty inches of pure Ramirez,” Nevada gloated, sitting down on the recliner that had become his home throughout Mariana and Matías’ hospital stay. Mariana smacked her teeth, unable to contain her happiness as she looked at him. “I told you he likes the right one.”

“You would know,” she bit her lip, turning to face her child once more. “Vada… ¡mira qué hermoso!”

“Tiene a quién salir,” he finished, tipping his chin in the air causing Mariana to giggle softly.

She was mesmerized by the beauty and easiness of the baby’s face. What once seemed like a dream, something she’d thought she could have, but after having faced Ricky’s abuse had been torn from her life, seeing the miracle that was her son in her arms had made her particularly emotional. It could’ve also been the fact that for a month, the uncertainty that clouded her mind every day on whether or not she would see this pregnancy through, or worst, the thought of her never getting the chance to meet her son, had her sitting with airs of elation.

She’d made good on the promise she’d made to her child: Nevada would get them out of there and they would be together once more.

She sighed, all love-filled, and she raised her elbow, allowing for greater reach and to place her lips upon Matías’ relaxed brow.

He was suckling contently, the veiny, thin flesh of his hooded lids protecting the beautiful shine of his eyes. His tiny fists were tucked under his chin, yet it was the steady beating of his heart that most excited Mariana. Being able to hold her child in her arms for the first time, to provide him that comfort, had her floating on cloud nine.

She turned towards Nevada with a smile, “What happened to Ian? I thought we were set on Ian as a name.”

Nevada smirked, basking in her happiness. “He was named Ian… for about two hours,” he smirked, biting his lip. “Then, I stared at him, and he didn’t look like a Ian Ramirez, but Matías…” he clicked his tongue. “Matías Ramirez es un hombre de palabra y autoridad… como su papá,” he finished with a wink.

Mariana shook her head, glancing down at Matías as he elicited a soft coo. “Why Matías?” she asked, smiling down at her newborn.

“Gift of God,” Nevada looked at Mariana, thoroughly in love with her. “Just like his mother.”

Mariana bit her lip, giving her newborn once more all the attention she harbored.

Nevada hummed; engulfed in all the love he had for the both of them. “Chiquita,” he called out for her hearing her hum. “Mírame,” he asked of her and once she smiled at him he admitted his love for her: “Te amo.”

Mariana’s smile grew on her face, biting her lip furtively, “Te amo, más, papi.”

tags: @bananas-pajamas @scarletsoldierrr @imjustreallynosy @katierpblogg @angelicdestieldemon

#me #chiquita #chiquita series #trouble in the heights #Nevada #Nevada ramirez #nevada ramirez x reader #nevada x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #Raul Esparza #chapter 18 #blood #hostage

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tokoyamisstuff · 4 years

Text

Four Seasons Pt. 1 out of 4 - Spring

After the pretty vague request of a sweet little Anon:

Pt. 1 - Blooming Love

Summary: Collection of shorts about how you spent a surprisingly normal year at the Stark Tower with the Avengers - except for the fact that you somehow got the God of Mischief to take a liking to you.

Warnings: None. No kinky shit, sorry guys. No Angst either. Just pure Fluff.

Words: 2880

(I think I’ve wrote everything gender neutral but I’m not sure. Maybe I forgot sth, let me know!)

Masterlist to my other Fics right ->Here<-

On a morning ike this, it was hard for you to be asleep for too long.

Rays of sun had already softly woken you up, reminding you that this day would be a special one.

Even though you would’ve loved to sleep late on your day off, your racing heartbeat pumped adrenaline through your veins the very moment your lover’s image shot into your head.

He was the last thing you thought of when you’d close your eyes, and the first thing when a new day began.

Still a bit sleep drunk, you did your usual morning stretches and enjoyed a long shower before you tried to make yourself looking as formidable as possible.

Wandering along the still empty streets of New York, you enjoyed the relaxing silence, while whistling carelessly together with the birds in the trees.

Colours, sounds, even thoughts - that feeling when you were in love, it made everything seem even brighter.

It sounded ridiculous, really - but you had been invited for brunch with the Avengers.

When you arrived at the giant sky scrapper, you’d rummage in your bag to get the ID card Tony handed you and shoved it into the face of the security guard.

“Welcome, Y/N” a robotic voice you recognized to be F.R.I.D.A.Y. greeted you, “But I have to inform that you’re quite early. The other team members are still fast asleep.”

“I’m not a team member” you thought to yourself as you smiled into one of the security cameras, as means to greet it back. The lower floors were completely empty on sundays, being mostly offices and other rooms made for Tony’s employees.

Walking through the pomporous entrance hall, seeing so many monitors and advertisment (of which most of it was Tony’s self-glorification), you could only think about how all of this was way too flashy, too modern for your taste, but well...

That’s just Tony’s taste. His home, his rules. And to a certain extend, you thought, giggling audibly, Loki and him were alike - both full of pride and, if you wanted to be mean, you could say they were little showoffs.

And since last time when you invited them to your flat they almost destroyed everithing during their friendly little strenght battles, you thought it’d be better if from now on you’d become the visitor instead.

“I wonder what Loki’s room looks like” you pondered when the lift was making it’s way upwards to the highest levels.

You walked straight through the giant living room, trying to sneak past the God of Thunder, who seemed to have fallen asleep while watching Netflix and playing Video Games the whole night - again.

Letting out a little sigh, you closed the kitchen door behind you and asked F.R.I.D.A.Y. to play some music as you started to collect the needed kitchen utensils.

Good thing Bucky bought everything you asked of him. Going grocery shopping sounded so easy for every normal human being, yet to Bucky, it was part of his rehabilitation process and you knew it didn’t came easy to him to be in great crowds of people, all by himself.

So you were really relieved that your worries seemed to have been unnecessary.

Actually, Tony wanted to just buy something for breakfast. You’ve never heared of a brunch delivery - even though in your mind it was a damn good idea - but you guessed it was nothing unusual for a man that rich.

He could probably get anything he wanted by just waving his hand - another thing he and Loki had in common, only through different ressources.

But well, it didn’t really feel like work to you. Putting a little effort into telling your newfound friends “Thanks for having me”, was almost as much fun to you as actually spending time with them.

You loved showering those you care about with love and attention, which was probably why you were simply made for that touch-starved, affectionate alien.

Soon, your hum turned into loud singing as you swept across the kitchen counter and prepared all kinds of food. Hours rushed past and still no sign of life from the others, but you didn’t care.

Suddenly, you heared a loud snort coming from the doorframe, startling you to an extend that made you stumble together with a bowl filled with strawberries.

You had already protectively covered your head with your hands - but were confused when you didn’t feel yourself hit the ground.

Looking up, there he was, giving you his usual, smug grin - Loki.

He was holding you tight with his one arm, and even caught the bowl with his other, not even one berrie having hit the ground.

“Oh my” he started, “How clumsy you are.”

The god put the plate on the table and gently helped you get back on your feet, holding your hands thight.

Immediately, you felt your head getting as red as the fruit, finding yourself at loss for words.

He still held your hand, leading one of them to his lips so he could place a tender kiss onto it’s back. “I’m sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Your shocked features relaxed and you gave him a warm smile as response. “It’s okay, darling.” He secretly loved that nickname - but that’d remain his little secret.

“But why didn’t you wake me up?” While you were already working again, having seen the time, Loki would aimlessly walking besides you. “At least let me help.”

Without you even having time to answer, just a flick of his fingers made the silverware reappear at the table.

“I didn’t know a prince would know how to cook. And also, I didn’t want to bother you that early.” At first he thought you were joking, but it seemed like you really didn’t know much about him.

After all, you’ve only been a couple for a short period of time. It’s only natural that you don’t know such details about life in the palace.

All that was part of his past, and you always said that his future was your privilege.

It was love at first sight, if one believed in that kind of thing.

You were invited to one of Tony’s “reputation-boosting” parties. As a member of one of New York’s greatest newspapers, it was only naturally for you to get invited.

There you were, a fresh reporter, standing in the same room as this surreal troup. Since you mostly worked from home, writing columns and being responsible for a small part of the newspaper’s website, working in the field didn’t come quite naturally to you.

But that shouldn’t ruin your evening.

Everything on you looked stunning, and you knew it.

The wardrobe you chose for tonight, the way you made you hair - it all was perfect for a celebration this formal.

Usually, you didn’t really give a damn about other people’s opinions, and neither you were one to judge someone’s outer appearance.

No, you rather did this for yourself. To boost your confidence, make this special occasion worth remembering.

You were shining, like a shooting star or a freshly polished diamond - and someone else noticed.

Many glances got stuck on you that evening, with one exceptional one glued to you without you noticing .

Until you disappeared to the bar, he basically stared holes into your back. And that man was a mastermind at magic tricks, so even though you were watching him as well, you’d never realize that your eyes met so many times before.

On Asgard, Loki had attended countless of such gatherings. Yet this one was sheer boring - not to talk about the fact that estimately 90% of the people in this hall would either want to see him rotting in jail, or worse.

So he just stood there, nipping on his drink as he stood at the edge of the troup, his brother being at the very center. Everyone was giving interviews or talked to fans, while he patiently waited for this event to be over.

“I’m sorry” a voice directed to him all of a sudden, carefully tapping his back. It was you.

“What?” he retorted, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t mind a magnificent beauty as you approaching him, but it was a mistery why you’d do such a thing.

“Could...umm...would you take a selfie with me? Please?”

His eyes widened in surprise as he saw your pleading eyes, shyly trying to avoid meeting his as you crossed your arms behind your back. “Only if you want to, of course.”

When he took in your appearance, he took notice of the journalist pass around your neck - and it was even more interesting than your unexpected request:

“You areY/N Y/L/N?”

“Y-Yes. Why?” Your cheeks changing to a shade of pink, there was only to hope he didn’t read-

He touched his chin, as if hardly thinking about something. “If I remember correctly, ,you wrote that certain article about the attack of New York, right?”

Damn.

You’ve always been a fan of norse mythology, and had a special weakness for so-called “anti-heroes”, too. They were just way too relatable. So it was only natural for you to write an article about that certain event.

In your earlier works, you’d basically write about how that guy’s misunderstood and philosophize about not only seeing black and white, because there was also a lot of grey zones in the clash of good and evil.

There were also parts where you worked together with psychologists and moral scientists to assess the god and his deeds, coming to the conclusion that even though we might learn something from the incident, the objectives of gods were far too great to understand for us mere mortals. And that was only the beginning...

How f*cking embarassing.

“That’s right” you stuttered, panicking and already trying to leave. “Sorry, I didn’t want to be impolite. I’ll make my leave.”

“Don’t be a fool” he whispered out of the blue, pulling you towards him. “I was quite flattered to have at least a single admirer amongst the human race.”

Planning to give his probably only fan a memory he’d never forget, Loki put his palm on your lower back, kneeling down to your height so you could take the photo. “Shall we?”

It felt like an eternity until your trembling hands would finally get that cellphone out of your pocket, but Loki realized your struggle and took it - his arms were way longer than yours anyway. “May I?” “Yeah, uh- Thank you.”

His appearance almost had a childlike innocence to it when he posed for these photos - a personal gift to you.

Turning your head, your eyes met once again, both faces being mere inches apart. It didn’t seem like he was mocking you, rather enjoying himself right now. You could feel it.

And at that very moment, the two of you simultaneously began to laugh, loudly and heartily before getting lost in each others eyes - and to this day, it would be your favourite photo.

“I think the two of us could have very enlightening conversations, don’t you think?” the sorcerer declared as he watched you swipe through the photos, a satisfied smile playing on your lips. “If you want to go somewhere more interesting, I’d be a honour to guide you to a room with more privacy.”

One nod of you and just like that, in the midst of the festives, the two of you disappeared together, without anyone taking notice.

You had found yourself on top of the stark tower, being able to watch the whole city from the roof. Stars stretched far beyond the horizon, making the lights of the city seem so insignificant.

And on the end of that evening, the Prince of Asgard even managed to steal his first kiss from you - even though only on the cheek.

None of you knew what the two of you just started, or what you should await for the future - but Loki could voice both of your hopes very well:

“I think this is the beginning of something unimaginably fulfilling.”

Lokis words brought you back to the present:

“What’s sleeping worth if the real dream is right here at my side?”

While you were standing at the stove, making some more pancakes, Loki would embrace you from behind, his nose nestling against your neck, making you shiver.

“How cheeky” you mumbled as both of you turned your head so your cheeks could touch.

“You foolish humans just don’t appreciate real romance anymore.” With those words, he’d kiss your temple as he changed his appearance into what resembled a cook. “Now finally, by the gods, let me help you!”

“Yeah, yeah, I see. You’re such a gentleman. And a comedian, too. Maybe you could prepare the scrambled eggs?”

“Your wish is my command, my lady.”

While you watched him eagerly trying to crack the eggs without getting all the shells into the pan, your head shifted back to that first night.

If you looked at him right now, no one would believe you that he’s a literal god, a master of the magical arts and a sharpwittted combatant.

But back then, on that rooftop of the Stark Tower, you knew that no matter what exactly he was, and what secrets e’d still be keeping to himself - you wanted to know anything about this man.

And it was set in stone that you’d fell in love with every facade of him.

A little bit exhausted, you let yourself fall onto the sofa in the living room. Thor has probably gone for his early training, and there was no one else to be seen either - all of them seemed to have been sleeping late.

It was a wonder no one had smelled the food and simply annihilate it even faster than it had been prepared. But when you watched the whole scenery at the kitchen table, you were pretty damn proud of yourself.

“Truly magnificent” Loki commented as he sat down next to you, adding “You must value your companions very much.”

“Maybe I was just trying to impress you, you know.” You rested your head at the most comfortable place possible - Loki’s lap, while he gently stroke your hair. “You’ve done well, little one. But you don’t have to go to such lenghts to impress me. My respect is meant only for you.”

He pressed a gentle kiss onto your temple before leaning onto the backrest, wondering “How about we just disappear? A day for just the two of us?”

“Well...” you pondered as you got up, your hand still resting on his knee “I wanted to go for a walk in the park. Maybe you’re up for a traditional picknick?”

Loki’s face contorted in disapproval, which only caused you to blurt out a laugh and pinch his nose. “What’s wrong now, moaning minnie? Not fancy enough?”

“You call that cheap excuse of nature a place someone wants to be? Oh my, I wish you could’ve seen the royal gardens of Asgard.” You knew he missed his home painfully, even though he used to say that you were his home from now on, and he wouldn’t need anything else. It was hard to adapt to an environment that alien to him.

Suddenly, like he did many times before, he cupped your cheeks with his hands, his fingertips only barely touching your temples, assuming “Or maybe, I can show you...”

You felt his magic flow through you, projecting the most beautiful images directly into your head. It was like you could wander those woods yourself, feel the grass onto your feet and smell flowers you’ve never seen before.

There were no words for the bond that two of you shared at that moment, when he let you into the core of his very self, letting you see his memories through your eyes.

Calmness began to settle in both of you, exhaling deeply before your eyes met once again.

“That was amazing, Loki. You are amazing.”

“I don’t have much to offer, my love. But I’m willing to share everything remotely positive with you, Y/N.”

You could feel the cold he was radiating, his fastened breath on your skin. His hands still on your face, you were even able to feel his heart racing through his veins.

Finally, the glimmer in your eyes hinting consent, he’d slowly move himself closer to you, not letting go of you for one second. His hold got tighter as your lips were just about to meet, when-

“Oh my GOD! Guys, they’re finally at it!” Scott yelled through the whole hallway, and you could hear metaphorically a thousand doors opening in response. He was still wearing his Frozen-Pyjama, holding a mug with Natasha’s forbiddenly strong coffee in his hand.

It was so intriguing to them, how anyone could win the heart of the God of Lies -until he met you, they were doubting he even had one. So in an instant, the whole team of superheroes had surrounded you, as if to watch a romantic movie together and waiting for the final sequence.

“I need a coffee before I’m able to deal with you guys.”

“That makes two of us.”

_____

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